Eternal Midnight
by Clez
Summary: An Alternate Universe sequel to 'By The Light of The Moon'. The night in which Tom Sawyer became the assassin Exuro went far different than what we had seen, and the results remain even after a hundred years...
1. Who Rules The Night?

**Author's Note:** Well, heeeeeeeeeeere we go. I hope you're all ready for this… it's gonna be one _hell_ of a roller coaster ride (or so I hope), and it's definitely a different track from my other LXG items. For one thing… well, you've all read the trailer, and have brains, so you can figure that one out for yourself. Also, don't expect amazingly swift updates on this one – which you will all (those with accounts and emails) automatically be alerted to – at least until I have finished one or two of my other stories. My own fault for letting my muse get away with me, I know… Also, check my new site – in my bio – for song listings for this fic, etc. Okay, on with the shout outs and then the prologue, named by my guinea pig for this story, my good buddy **Nightslash** _winks::_

**Raven Silvers:** Thank you, buddy. Hope this lives up to your expectations.

**Graymoon74:** Ah yes, yummy men galore. Thanks, GM.

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** Sorry you had to wait so long, but finally, here it is, and I hope you enjoy it.

**Sethoz: **Glad you liked the trailer, and thanks. Hope this is worth the wait, and I hope you enjoy it. Though I have the sneaking suspicion you're going to want to _hurt_ me…

**queerquail** Well, here you have it.

**Kame-sama** I torture my readers when my muse is uninspired to torture characters… pretend I never said that. Sorry I made you wait, and I hope you like it.

**Andrea:** I'm glad you like the cast list and the trailer as a whole. Thanks. Aheheh, and I agree! All those good-looking guys, and so much to take in… I'd get lost!

**TARilus:** I'm glad you found it chilling. All will be explained shortly. Aheh, that episode of Friends was on the other day! I watched it _grins::_ And I agree… the odds aren't the best.

**LotRseer3350:** Thanks. Sorry I made you wait, but… I mean, you were lucky it came out now. I was trying to resist, but caved.

**drowchild** I'm glad you liked the trailer. I wish I could be _in_ the movies. But thank you so much for your compliment. It meant a lot to me. All the characters and story will become clear, don't worry. It will all make sense soon! I hope…

**NightinBelle:** Hope you hung around and want to read this, and I hope you think it was worth the wait.

(P.s. For those who haven't read _Silver Bullet _or _By The Light of The Moon_, you can probably figure it out, but you might get confused. So… be warned, heh.)

And now, with my deep apologies, here is the prologue and debut of **_Eternal _****_Midnight_****_…_**

* * *

_Tom Sawyer pounced._

_Captain Nemo lifted his harpoon gun higher, finger automatically reaching for the trigger on reflex. The lycanthropic form of the Secret Service Agent loomed closer, silver eyes flashing dangerously and eerily in the dying light of the flare fired from the Indian's gun. He snarled, maws wide as his claws inched closer and closer by the second, his hot breath hitting Nemo in the face, but the proud, regal man did not waver, simply squeezed._

_The harpoon exploded from the end of the gun, a noise like the firing of a cannon resonating around the narrow corridor, the waning light making it strobe and painful to watch, even as the projectile rocketed forwards, and towards the side of the werewolf, aimed to graze, not kill. That was not Nemo's intention._

_But when the harsh, horrific reality of the inaccuracy of his shot hit him, he realised how much closer to Tom Sawyer he **should** have aimed, even as the full weight of the lycanthrope slammed him in the chest, the claws digging in and drawing thick, crimson blood. Despite his pride and strength – both physical and mental alike – Nemo let out a shout of agony, and was ploughed backwards and down, into the ground with enough force to jar his spine and make him wince, the harpoon gun lost from his grasp as the claws dug in deeper. A snarl made his head ache as it rumbled over his face, before the maw opened wide, saliva and the blood of the poor crewman dripped from the canines at the front of the jaws, large and terrifying. The silver eyes glinted in anticipation, eager for the kill._

_Captain Nemo, inventor of the Nautilus, and member of the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen _stared death in the face, and let out a weary sigh, seeing the malicious edge to the eyes of what was once Tom Sawyer… the mischief and innocence was lost… forever, he feared, even as the jaws lowered, and he felt them pierce his throat._

_The werewolf clamped the maw around the neck, and crushed, tearing and killing, in its element and loving every minute._

* * *

A flash of natural light tore the man from his reverie, and his green, hazel-flecked eyes opened slowly, even as distant lightning flared across the sky over at the edge of New York City, the skyscrapers blocking off part of the display. The roof he stood upon was a good twenty floors up, and the wind was picking up, whipping around his ankles and causing his cloth duster to blow around his lower legs, billowing like a cloak and giving him a mysterious appearance as he loomed on the very edge of the roof. His clothing was black in the entirety: steel toe-capped boots; black, buttoned shirt fastened to the middle of his broad yet not overly large chest; black pants made of durable, thick denim-like material for endurance; and the duster… his – their – trademark attire item. They never went anywhere without them… _he_ never went anywhere without it. 

As he stood, turning his head slowly about to watch for danger and anything interesting, his blonde locks of slightly curled, ever-tousled hair fluttered about his ears, his eyes, settling on his brow and tickling the back of his neck in an almost welcome fashion. His hair had not changed in length, style or colour in over one hundred years, and that was just how he planned to keep it. He wasn't one for change. It didn't suit him. Regularity and familiarity were two of his favourite things.

He took in a deep breath; his heightened senses making more of the scents than any mere human could comprehend. He closed his eyes again for a moment, even as far-off thunder rumbled lazily, drawing closer. In his mind, the same memory played casually, like a record stuck on loop, but he saw it often… it was like a rhythm, beating its way slowly through him. It was one of the first real, vivid things he could remember. The man he had killed viciously – Captain Nemo had been his name and title – had gone down without much of a fight… disappointing. After that, the hunt and the chase had seemed to lose some of the thrill, for one of the greatest fighters had fallen so easily and quickly. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but there hadn't been many more important, memorable casualties. When defeat had stared their opponents in the face, in the form of four sets of lupine eyes, they had retreated; realising victory was _not_ within their grasp, despite all delusions.

Though he should have taken pride and excitement at that victory, a sense of oddity swept over him whenever he thought about it, like something should not have occurred that night. Something had gone wrong, and something… something _important_ had changed. A small – mostly ignored – voice in the very back of his skull told him that he should have left _with_ those people, the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ as they had called themselves… but a more imposing voice kept it subdued, and told him that this was where he belonged… this was who he was.

He was not Special Agent Thomas Sawyer of the American Secret Service.

No… not anymore…

He was Exuro… assassin for hire… and he was _damned_ good at his job.

Exuro bent his knees, and reached down with a hand, crouched almost predatorily on the rooftop, his green eyes scouring the darkness of the alley below for what he knew was coming. The target – or rather, _targets_ – should be here any moment, lured in with a false lead as to a lair of werewolves. Exuro smiled a grim smile, laughing quietly at their naivety. Little did they know they wandered into their own doom… their deaths awaited them at the end of this alley, and he planned to see to it that not a soul – not that the stinking creatures _had_ souls – left the place afterwards. He would decorate the blandness of the stone with their blood, tear them apart and ensure they never bothered this city again. His client, a regular now, was wiping out the vampires a little at a time, small clans of the beasts, and he certainly knew where to apply his funding.

Exuro would take any job, so long as the payment was agreeable. Anything under the 'limit' they had set would earn the potential client something unfavourable… whether that be a bad reputation, or a bullet in their body… or worse, a set of lycanthropic jaws closing around their neck for wasting time.

It was useless to try and hire the best assassins money could buy for anything _less_ than the highest one could afford. Why bother paying less than everything you have for something you obviously wish to see through to the end, to the death as it were? There was no second best… there was only the Quattuor. They were the only option in this city, and for a high enough price… any city that wanted them. No client – so long as the payment was available, and not necessarily in money; ammunition and weapons was also acceptable – was too good for them… or respectively, not good enough. Usually though, it was the high rollers and big players who reached them, tracked them down and were brave enough to enter into negotiations. They were usually the only ones who could _afford_ the Quattuor anyway.

And then he caught the scent, his highly tuned senses lifting it out of the breeze and placing it exactly in a finely catalogued mental list of smells, identifying it immediately and causing him to smile in a wry manner. The fools were walking straight into a trap, and their deaths awaited them as soon as they hit the halfway mark. There would be no morning for any of them… not that they enjoyed or abided sunlight, for the most part. Some of them could survive it, but… in the middle of his thought, he realised it bothered him very little, and stood to his full height of just over six feet. In years past – many years ago, in fact – his visage would have been comforting, soft expression and compassionate eyes. It was all gone… the face was exactly the same, yes, but the eyes were cold and cruel, and the expression was hard and nonchalant.

They hit the mark… he could smell them drawing closer, and he poised his entire body, tensing every muscle, before he hopped off the roof, basically taking one large step over the balcony, and dropping without a care. He descended swiftly, the distance between his body and the ground decreasing rapidly with every second that passed, but he didn't concern himself with the height from which he had leapt. Over the years, he had accustomed himself to 'tricks' such as this, and he was growing _very_ adept, even skilled, at doing it.

When his boots hit the solid ground of the alleyway below, his knees bent instinctively, and for a moment, he was down in a predatory crouch, head bowed as he heaved in a large breath to fill his lungs with the lower air. He raised his face, and tossed his hair from his eyes, rising to his feet, sensing rather than smelling the approaching form, dropping down next to him with the grace and agility of an experienced feline… ironically.

Her eyes were closed for just a moment, but when they opened, they were the most brilliant, vibrant blue, like the sky on a clear summer's day, yet carrying the icy edge of winter, ready to chill and destroy any life that neared it too bravely. Her face was beautiful – even darkly so – and flawless, her skin smooth and pale and yet softly toned. She had full, red lips that curved very slightly into a smile and the most exciting hair he had ever seen. In his time, he had seen some varying styles, but none ever so _right_ as hers. It was blonde for the most part, in many adventurous layers, cut around her face like spiked frames ready to slice. But woven through the feathered layers of hair were fiery streaks of flaming red, vivacious and unmistakable as the trademark hairstyle of Falx, alpha female of the Quattuor. Her own clothing was dark, all black in fact, and fit her like a second skin. Her pants were leather; her boots were like his, but with more of a feminine heel; her blouse was unbuttoned adventurously, to whet the appetites of men who were daring – or stupid – enough to try their luck – mostly for her amusement – and then not live to tell the tale the next morning; and her own cloth duster settled around her calves.

Exuro tossed her a sly smile, one that she returned.

A third figure landed silently behind Falx, and to her left, and Exuro glanced over at the young man, very close in external age to him. Then again, he supposed if they looked the same age, they probably were, but the exact details were lost on him and he didn't care. This third figure, the second male, rolled his head on his neck, and there was a light crack as he sighed contently. He flexed his fists, and then clenched them, glancing with once-soulful brown eyes over at the other two. His own smile was eerie yet soft in its own way, and his black, curled hair danced around his brow, ears and neck with the breeze that tugged at him. Once again, black was the attire of choice, and the only difference in the newcomer's clothing to that of Exuro's was the shirt… it wasn't a shirt, it was a polo necked sweater. Exuro never understood Lacertus' love for thicker clothing, but then again, it mattered very little, so long as the other lycanthrope knew when it was time to shed the items if he didn't want them ruined. His duster reached his knees, going no further, and billowed only slightly in the wind.

Finally, a fourth figure dropped down, the last member of the Quattuor. He landed in a mirrored position to Lacertus, to the right of Exuro and back slightly, as if mimicking a lingering shadow, and he rolled his shoulders after the landing. His own brown eyes were narrowed constantly, from either anger or anticipation, and he glanced to the others, as if checking they were still present. Exuro pretended not to see the glare aimed at him, and shrugged it off. He was all but immune to the other man's 'intimidation' by now, and it practically bounced off of him anyway. The man's hair was a chocolate brown, and it fluttered around his cheeks and jaw, reaching the bottom of his neck at the back; he had let it grow over the years. A light facial hair also adorned the face of the last member, around his jaw and mouth, accentuating his broad, strong features and giving him a slightly more feral appearance. His own clothing was – once again – black like the night, but his own black shirt was buttoned higher than Exuro's, as if trying to show his maturity, with the shortest coat of them all; only settling around his thighs. But perhaps the most noticeable detail about Gladius was his scar… it ran from beside his right eye, down his cheek, ending suddenly at his jaw line, where the claw of a fellow lycanthrope had almost torn half of his face away in combat.

Exuro smiled darkly… Gladius had hated him ever since the day the younger male had stolen his leadership, taken the alpha male title from him and bumped him right down to Omega. Even Lacertus loomed over him in the small chain now. Exuro and Falx were in command, with Lacertus settled nicely in the middle… Gladius scraping the bottom like the lowly coward he was, the ruthless murderer who took too much enjoyment from his work. He didn't understand there was a subtle art to assassination, like the others… he went too far sometimes, and had to be told to stop, something that never ceased to annoy the alphas.

As one, the four sets of eyes turned to meet the figures melting out of the shadows, a handful of a dozen vampires who seemed to realise the lies they had been told in order to draw them to the secluded alleyway. They straightened themselves up, broadened their chests in anticipation of a battle.

Which was precisely when the Quattuor reached inside their dusters, and tore free twin pistols, raising and aiming within the space of a single heartbeat. The guns Exuro and Lacertus held were Colt models, modern and stylised, whereas Gladius and Falx gripped Smith & Wesson's in their hands. The guns of the alphas reflected the light slightly, being mock silver in plating, with the weapons of the other two males being a solid black.

Without blinking, the Quattuor let loose with alternate shots from their guns, a hail of bullets tearing down the alley and ripping into the vampires, their howling and screaming like music to the ears of the four assassin werewolves. Gladius grinned maniacally, and growled eagerly. The bullets made a deafening cacophony of thunder in the surrounding area, before eight clicks were heard, and four twin sets of guns were emptied in unison. They were immediately dropped to the ground, to be reclaimed later.

The vampires reeled from the surprise attack, the bullets having torn into their flesh and caused them intense agony. One or two were writhing on the ground, hissing in pain. Others were clutching at bleeding, gaping holes in their bodies, growling angrily at the indecency of the ambush. A dozen sets of blood red eyes stared at the lycanthropes, even as they removed their dusters, their first wave ended with the emptying of the guns. It was time to resort to extreme measures.

The dusters were thrown to the ground, and the holsters fell next, before the removal of the shirts, – and in the case of Lacertus, the sweater – all cast aside in preparation for the change. The boots were kicked off, and then the breaking of bones started to echo horribly around the walls. One of the vampires noticed, and moved to step forward, only to be grabbed by a companion, around the collar, and heaved backwards in favour of caution.

Gladius sank to all fours as grey hair started to sprout from his entire body, a deep growl resonating out of his thick throat and rattling through his razor sharp maw, teeth pushing through the gums and lifting his heavy jowls. His somewhat tufted ears flattened against his long skull, and his canine snout curled with the foul smell of the vampires. He shook his bulky body when fully transformed and snarled again. Over the years, the yellow from his eyes had altered oddly, to a kind of wicked green, and no one could – as of yet – understand why.

Lacertus, like Gladius, fell to all fours, his knees cracking backwards as well, like the Omega male's had… but no grey hair pushed through his skin. His black locks receded and withdrew into his skull, even as small patches of brown fur emerged at certain points all over his body; atop his skull, down the backs of all four legs, behind his shoulders and down his spine. His muscles rippled, and his short snout shifted as he sniffed the air, his yellow eyes – similar to Gladius' in shape but softer and carrying a more obvious undertone of lost humanity – narrowed and blinking.

Falx remained on her hind legs, growing taller and losing the vibrancy to her short mane, which extended down her back somewhat, and trailed along her neck, over her head, and even spreading down her arms a little, grey and brown, very neutral in colour. Her limbs extended to an almost disproportioned length, her fingers growing out like spidery extensions of her body, clawed tips like daggers. Her obviously canine head cocked to one side, and dark, almost black eyes blinked only once.

Exuro as well, remained on two legs, bipedal in form unless he chose to use all four limbs to run. He grew upward and outward, his chest doubling in size and thickening to reinforce his vital cavity where his internal organs were housed, his ribcage having resized noticeably. His limbs had all increased in mass as well, thicker, like great trunks from proud trees, a twining of sinew and large bone. His head changed shape entirely, wider and deeper, with ears that pushed right off the top of his skull and twitched with the tiniest sound. His eyes melted from green to silver, like liquid metal, and his jaws were filled with threatening fangs, dripping with saliva as he growled. Black hair had taken over his form, all traces of blonde lost to the transformation from human guise to lycanthropic prowess, and a kind of reflection of his human hair was shown around the sides of his skull, hanging down to near his jaws in a sort of black, silken mane. He let out a bellow, which the other three wolves joined in, their combined voices making a spine-chilling sound that echoed all around for blocks in each direction.

The vampires started to edge forward, their growls merging with those of the four werewolf assassins who had been sent to destroy them, before they began to pick up their pace, swiftly entering into jogs, throwing themselves forward.

The Quattuor pounced forward, roaring and snarling, tearing into their victims without mercy, annihilating every single one of them.


	2. A New Rhythm

**Author's Note:** Hope that last instalment was exciting – and chilling – enough for you, and here is part two. This one takes on a different tone – of sorts – and we see our characters in a new light. I also lowered the rating, because it was a bit high, really, even for the content of the story. So just be warned; there's some violence – though not much – and some bad language.

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** I'm glad you love it, and here's some more.

**Marcus Lazarus: **Don't worry, my friend, all will become clear as the story progresses. It will unfold as I go along. So no need to be concerned with finding out about the rest of the League. It'll pop up in good time.

**NightinBelle:** Yay, glad you liked it. Sorry it took me so long. Hope you like this chapter too – which I got inspired for in the BATH, of all places. Very odd, but it screamed to be written.

**Sethoz:** Exuro is such a badass villain… because… because he just is, I guess. I updated! See? Aren't you proud of me? XD

**Leigh S. Durron:** I'm glad you liked it, and thought it was powerful. Also very happy you could see it in your head, which is a great comfort. Here's the next part, and I hope you like it.

**Queerquail:** Wow, thanks. I'm very glad you seem to have enjoyed it. Also, the part with Nemo… what you said is reassuring. I had a hard time going through with that actually, but sat down and forced my way through, and there you had it. Hope you like this one too!

**funyun** This in relation to _Silver Bullet_? Hmm… it would actually be an AU sequel to _By The Light of The Moon_, I suppose, as that's what I set out to write. You won't have to wait long to find out about Mina, trust me, heh. Quattuor is – actually, so I discovered – Latin for 'four' or 'the four'. So it's all Latin now! Heh. As I said to 'Marcus', your other questions will be answered in good time.

Here's the next part of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

* * *

With a heavy sigh of defeatism, she removed her spectacles, brushing her auburn tinted brown hair from her eyes, where it had escaped the confines of its short ponytail, curled up into a clip that was _supposed_ to keep it out of the way during research, study and experiments. Her clear blue eyes perused her scruffy – supposed to be flowing – handwriting, and she grabbed her own wrist to closely inspect her watch, to see the time.

Ten past one… in the morning. It was probably a good idea if she either slept or fed. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken a proper meal, and it would be wise for her to do so, before her urges became too much, and she lost her control. She would hate to pass into ferocity here, where she was not alone. The last thing she wanted was to have her associates harm her, forced to in order to control her when her vampiric instincts took over. She could feel the creature Dracula had made within her rising up, trying to take control, but her years of experience helped her to push it down and keep it contained… for now.

Wilhelmina 'Mina' Harker stood from her large desk, closing her book as she went, and left her spectacles on the top of it. Striding away on heeled boots, she approached the rack, where her long jacket was hanging, black and cloth, perfect for blending with the shadows and keeping the heat in, and subsequently, the chill _out_. She had a higher tolerance, but it still didn't hurt to be comfortable.

Moving back to the desk, she opened the drawer, and removed two polished silver daggers, regarding them almost sadly for a moment, as if lost in a memory she would rather have forgotten. Her blue eyes traced the edges of the blades, and with a flash of recollection, she quickly slotted them away in her belt sheathes, for security. She doubted – and hoped against hope – she would have to use them. She dreaded the day she was forced to, and refused to even think about it. There had been a few times in the past hundred years where she had come close… _very_ close on one or two occasions, but she had managed to escape it somehow, each time.

Shutting off her mind from such reminiscing, she turned, heading for the door, and headed out of it. She needed to escape for a little while. On her way down the corridor, heading to the exit, she passed a room, where sounds of sparring could be heard. Grunts, yells and the hollow blocking of wood on wood resonated through the door. Mina was so accustomed to the noises that she barely registered them, and reaching up, she pulled her clipped hair from its trappings. She tossed the clip on the small tray beside the door, letting her slightly flicked, layered and feathered hair fall around her face, down to her shoulders. She had finally gotten around to cutting it about five years ago, and though it still curled when her baser instincts kicked into being, it was easier to move around and… fight, with shorter locks to deal with. True, she missed her long, ever-silky tresses, but sometimes, practicality won out over appearance.

She made it down to the streets of New York, and took in a deep breath of the city air, grimacing for a moment at the industrial stench, and the stink of vehicle fumes, remembering her Victorian streets where she had wandered and roamed. She missed them sometimes.

That was when she caught a scent, thinking back on previous times when she had been in this vast city, and her head turned immediately to the left to follow her senses. She took another sniff on the air, and sighed longingly. Her blue eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened, they had flooded a dangerous red. But only for a brief instant, for some youths bustled around a corner, laughing and eyeing her at once. When they made to approach her, perhaps to 'offer' her something, she growled threateningly, letting them know subtly that they would lose something of value for their troubles. They hurried on their way, muttering something about 'freaks' and 'witches'.

_Not quite_, she mused, and quickly turned her attention back to the scent. She took to following it; glad her female associate was not with her. Whenever this particular scent came into being when they were around, her friend usually lost control of her faculties, and cast reason aside. Mina was best off on her own. She knew when to back away; out of danger… knew when to retreat. The vampire had learned stealth and the fine art of shadowing those with heightened senses _long_ ago, and was growing rather adept at it.

The scent took her on a winding path through the alleys and back streets of the city, and finally, it reached a fire escape up the side of a building. It became erratic at that moment, as though the owner had jumped halfway and climbed, in union. Raising a prim brow, she took it upon herself to pace around the building… when the all too familiar tangy, coppery scent of blood – and lots of it – filled her nostrils. Grimacing, and then feeling the hunger burn, she could do nothing but follow it. What she came across horrified, sickened and angered her, as well as filled her with sadness.

Vampires… or what _had_ been vampires… slaughtered and torn apart, their remains scattered and their blood soaking into every part of the alley on the other side of the building her quarry – as such for one hundred years and more – had climbed. Assassination… she knew it when she saw it, and they had left no survivors. They had also left no trace – other than their scent – for anyone to follow. And since she was so accustomed to their scent by now, she was more than skilled at following it. Someone not so used to it might not be able to track it so accurately.

The Quattuor had learned many tricks over the years, in order to evade being tracked or captured, and she and her companions had studied these traits carefully, ensuring they never completely lost them. If they lost them, it was only briefly. They would not hear or see anything of them for a month at most, and then become 'reacquainted' once more.

Taking off after the scent once more, Mina began to enter the crowds of the nightlife. She was approaching the club district of the city, where drunkards, drug-addicts and whores – in their simplest form and their subtlest, as well as the more obvious – roamed freely, all over the streets, noisily and openly. She cut a path through them, her long coat billowing out behind her like an otherworldly shadow, with a life of its own, a foreshadowing of her other form. Everyone – no matter what their agenda or identity – seemed to realise the burning intent in her eyes and stride, and stepped out of her way at once, creating a passage for her, one that she was most accustomed to. She paid it no attention, simply followed the scent to the doorway at the side of a huge warehouse type building, long ago converted into a heaving club that her quarry often frequented.

Glancing around her, she closed her eyes for a moment, and took in a deep, slow breath. The scent had broken… two were gone. She had a fair idea which two that was as well, with a burning passion inside of her much akin to disappointment, jealousy or anger. Shoving it all aside roughly, she strode towards the door. The doorman gave her a brief glance up and down, and then pulled open the heavy metal barricade that served as a door. It creaked ominously, and the pulsing beat hit her, washing over her like water, surging and powerful. It coursed through her veins like blood, and beat at her heart savagely. It was the kind of music only created to make noise… something she disliked quite fervently.

She stepped into the beat, and pushed her way through the narrow corridor that led to the main body of the club. As soon as she hit that part of the building, the noise level was unbelievable. For once, she could not hear her own blood coursing through her veins, something that made her feel a little uncomfortable. The bar was situated all along the wall to her right, heaving with people… as was the dance floor, which took up most of the space in the building. There were tables, filled with people, dotted here and there sporadically, and seemingly at random. People nursed bottles and shots alike, and downed strong liquors and experimental liquids that she dare not muse over. She ignored all of these people, and tried to pick through the scents that overwhelmed her.

It took her a great deal of time and patience to filter through them until they hit her, and she made her way to a balcony set up about six feet above the main floor, where one could observe the dancing. She pushed to the front, glaring at a man who seemed interested in 'making a move on her'. They reconsidered, and suddenly found their girlfriend interesting once again. Mina rolled her eyes in disgust, and gazed intently back on the heaving crowd who moved to the music.

Picking through them with her blue eyes, she found them… picked them out of the crowd of forgettable youths and pathetic partygoers… and stared openly. A little red flickered into her retina for a moment, before she urged it to recede at the sight of them.

The woman was twisting her whole body with the beat, her agility and grace that came from her lycanthropy growing apparent as she arched her spine and moved with an almost unbelievable amount of flexibility. She ground her hips into her dancing partner, and stared into his eyes, running her lips along his jaw line in what was supposed to be an enticing manner, before she ran her face through his hair at the side of his head. Her own fiery-streaked blonde locks were in stylish disarray, and fell around her face like a darkly beautiful halo of misleading innocence and dangerous mischief. Her icy blue eyes closed for a moment as she rolled her head back, and leaned down and into him. She lowered halfway to the ground, her hands playing down his chest and stomach, running along his large leather belt, and then back up again, pulling up a little of his black shirt as she went. Her own clothes were completely black – as those of the Quattuor normally were – and rather revealing, in regards to her top. It was strapped at her shoulders, and cut low around her back and chest. It ran high along her midriff as well, showing a rather generous amount of pale, yet flawless skin. Her full lips pulled up into a teasing smile for a moment as a man danced close to her.

Her partner seemed none too appreciative of the other man's proximity however, as Mina practically felt his growl surge through her like electricity, and a menacing light of silver lingered in his eyes for a moment. The charmer quickly retreated. He turned his now-green gaze back upon the beautiful woman who ran her hands around his neck possessively, and smiled in what had once been a playful, mischievous manner… now cold, rather cruel, and alluring in its own way. His blonde hair fell all around his face and head in a youthful manner, covering his brow and eyes somewhat. He moved with her in a predetermined rhythm, and it was as though they were linked. Every move she made, he reciprocated in an instant. His eyes never once looked over another female on the dance floor, and his affection was oddly gentle, as his hands ran up from her feminine hips, up her waist, past her arms, to ensnare her face, cup it gently at her cheeks and pull her forward to him. They did not stop in their dancing, even as their lips met hungrily, starting off with a slow passion, before they seemed ready to consume one another with their zeal for the kiss. Her lean fingers ran a trail through the sides of his hair, stopping at the back as her nails clung to him, and their bodies pressed to one another as she traced a line down from the back of his skull to his neck, carrying along his jaw, and when they parted for a moment, running over his mouth. He looked into her eyes longingly, and they gave in to the music again, clinging to one another as the woman twisted her athletic form to the rhythm once more, her mate returning the affectionate gestures.

All of this Mina watched with a detached sense of analysis. Exuro – as he was called now – and his lycanthropic lover, Falx, did not seem to notice her presence or observation of their passionate dance. Though with their involvement in each other, and their apparent blocking out of _everything_ around them, she was not in the least bit surprised.

The music began to change, and her eyes did not drift, even as they began to move, perfectly in time with the beat through some unnatural gift for rhythm it seemed, towards a table… rather close to Mina, it seemed. It was actually directly below the balcony upon which she stood, her arms crossed and leaning on the railing, one foot favoured, the heel of the other firmly pressed against the ground below her. Pondering over what to do, she watched as everyone moved away from the small booth with rather lavish cushioned sofa-like seating and wide table, knowing that it was because – in this place – Exuro and Falx were well known… respected and feared. She drummed her nails along the railing for a moment, as the two seated themselves, Falx leaning into Exuro hungrily even as they rested for a moment, and the latter turned a bottle of beer in his hand. They kissed again once more, before Exuro slowly pulled back, as though smelling something that made him think twice of his affection.

Mina let the humourless smile crawl onto her face, turning her red lips upward slightly at the edges, even as the green eyes lifted, his head craning back. His blonde locks tumbled from his brow as he looked up… into her eyes.

"Harker," he greeted bluntly, his voice carrying over the slightly softer beat of the new song, and his chest heaved visibly with an obvious sigh. He touched the hand holding his beer to his head for a moment, and then set the bottle down. Falx trailed her fingertips along his chest for a moment, before whispering in his ear. She quickly stood, glaring openly and viciously at Mina with now-black eyes, before heading in the direction of the restrooms. Exuro hesitated for a moment, before leaning back in an overly casual manner, one boot landing on the cushioned seat near to him; his back slouched into the rest behind him. He looked up at her for a moment, before raising a brow expectantly.

"You want me to yell up to you, vampire?"

Mina arched a brow of her own, making a small facial expression of distrust, before he rolled his eyes lazily. Sighing very lightly for herself, she gripped the railing, and heaved herself over it with vampiric grace, landing on her feet in front of the cushioned seating, not six feet from her 'enemy'. The young man who had once been Special Agent Tom Sawyer regarded her with boredom, and waited impatiently.

Still wearing her coat – from experience knowing that the need for a swift exit was always a possibility – she lowered herself into the seat opposite him, watching him as he draped one arm over the raised knee, his eyes downcast for a moment.

"Still following me, Harker?" he asked of her gruffly, eyeing the crowd for a moment, eyes narrowed in a pensive, perhaps annoyed, manner.

"Aren't I always?" she replied equally as flatly, making sure not to get too comfortable. Though, with the awkward tension that flowed between them – for two people that had been at 'war' for nearly one hundred years, and exchanged blows more than once – that was hardly a possibility. "Don't sound so surprised, Exuro." She had long ago given up the idea of calling him Tom or Sawyer… that wasn't him anymore, though they were still trying… her friend believed – with a fiery passion – that he could be saved.

"I'm not," he returned loudly over the music, eyeing her with discreet contempt. "I'm disappointed." He smiled, lopsided and somewhat wicked. "I thought you would have let me be _long_ ago… but you're still like a thorn in my side."

"So why don't you pull the thorn out?" Mina smiled coyly in a false expression, and lifted her brows, cocking her head almost mockingly.

"Believe me," Exuro grumbled, leaning forward with his knee still up on the chair, exhibiting his flexibility and agility perfectly, even as he reclaimed his beer, "I've _tried_."

"Oh, I know," Mina hissed back, and her eyes waned into red. "But anyone would think you were half-hearted about the idea."

He reciprocated with the venom, and his own eyes flashed into silver, staying that way as he said, "I could put you down right now, _vampire_." He spat the word, as though it tasted foul to him. "If you'd like."

"And I know it would delight you to _try_, dear werewolf." She tried to return the spite in his species' title, but failed. She hoped he wouldn't notice.

In the blink of an eye – in which his _own_ became green again – his beer was back on the table, and a mock silver-plated Colt pistol was in his right hand, pointed directly at her face.

And in return, her silver dagger was drawn, poised to be thrown. She was fast, she knew, but not as quick as he was with a trigger… she knew that too. She would lose… she _knew _she would. He would have blown a bullet through her skull and out the other side before she could have released the smooth grip of the silver – real, not mock plated – dagger in his direction.

"But…" Exuro began icily, the growl filtering through into his tone, even as he tilted the business end of the handgun upward, to the ceiling, spinning it on the trigger guard with his finger, before twirling it and slotting it back in his holster, "that's best left for somewhere… less public. You know you'd prefer it that way."

Mina hesitated, and then returned her own weapon to its concealment, knowing that – in places like this at least – such exchanges of threat – both with words and weapons – were commonplace and easily ignored. She leaned forward in her seat for a moment, taking his beer bottle in her hand, and turning it in her long, thin fingers for a short time as she said, "_Is _it I who would prefer such intimacy, Exuro?" Her gaze lifted meaningfully into his. "Or is it _you_?" Taking a deep swig on his beer, she set it down, stood from the table, and swept away into the crowd.

She passed Falx on the way, who growled viciously as she went, and headed straight for the door. She had made a point of ignoring the female lycanthrope, and as soon as she had been let out of the club, she took a sharp left, down the alley into its depths.

At the end of its path, in the shadows and secrecy of nothing other than her own company and perhaps under the scrutinizing eye of a cat or rodent, she leaned her back against the wall, closing her eyes and drawing in a sharp breath.

"Damn you…" she hissed, and heard a bottle roll along the concrete. Her eyes opened, blood red in their vibrancy, and her heart rushed madly in her chest, as if ready to explode in rage and passionate sorrow, as a man chose that time to drunkenly stumble in her direction, rambling about her being a woman and other things that made her stomach churn.

Growling bestially, she let him come right up to her, before snapping her hand out towards him and gripping his rather oily hair. She yanked it to the side viciously, and with all the words she and Exuro had exchanged burning through her mind like a fire, she tore into his throat hungrily and savagely.


	3. As The Sun Rises

**Author's Note:** Chapter three. Not much happens in this one, but it furthers the plot, doesn't it? Well at least I _hope_ it does… Language warning in this one. That Quattuor… such filthy mouths XD

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**Marcus Lazarus:** Glad you're finding it interesting. Oh, 'Tom' remembers her, he just doesn't want to. Anise and Dmitri are in this chapter. Fate of the _League_ won't be revealed in detail – like I'm sure you want – for a while yet, but we get a sample soon.

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**funyun:** Hehe, I agree about Exuro. I had to give him and the others a voice. After all, it WOULD have been boring if he just sat there and looked threatening, as you said. (Anise is her name, btw) I'm happy you find this refreshing.

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**BloodMoonLycan:** 50 badass points? He'll like that. As will Falx. And yes, she probably would kick your ass. If not for ignoring her, then for paying attention to her lover oO She's shallow that way XD I'm glad you love it.

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**Mrs. Mina Harker:** They're assassin werewolves… not big on marriage really, more companionship. Heh, trying to play matchmaker, are we? XD

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**Sethoz:** Thanks, buddy. Glad you love Exuro. I'm waaaaaaaay too fond of him right now – d'oh. Yay! You loved the conversation. Cool. I had too much fun writing that, and I was going for a good mix of attitude, sarcasm and threat, so I'm very happy you liked it. Look! I updated!

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**Queerquail:** Interesting? Nifty _::smiles::_ Glad you like Exuro. Defeatism is indeed a word, at least according to my dictionary. Here's the new chapter.

And here's the new part of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

I hope you like it.

* * *

With a pounding headache, she glanced out the window, lying otherwise motionless in her bed, and saw the sun's first rays stream in through her partially open curtains, draped haphazardly over the glass to block out the intense morning light that would otherwise have struck her in the face, blinding her, if only for a few moments. It was mere seconds after that her alarm clicked into life, a rather upbeat song playing a little too loudly for her liking. She winced, groaned, and slammed a lean palm down on the deactivation button.

When the noise failed to stop, she gave in to impatience, and growled, grabbing a hold of it with one hand, and yanking away from the wall and cabinet where it sat, not far from her head. With a snap and a buzz, she tossed the torn alarm clock to the floor, hearing it clatter. She would get another one… not that she really needed it. Her 'job' never required early starts… she more or less found late nights the norm, and barely minded it, given her 'disposition'.

Sighing, she rolled herself towards the open end of her mattress, and practically toppled free of the blankets, though with a natural grace that she barely recognised anymore. She landed on her feet, in a low crouch that she soon snapped out of, and walked to her dresser, pulling out a black sweater and pants, tugging them on. The thought of a shower never even occurred to her… it was something that she preferred later in the day. Running a brush swiftly through her hair and only wincing briefly at the tugging of slight knots, she regarded herself in her mirror for a moment… only for a moment.

Anise Delacroix did not like to regard herself for much longer than a few seconds, somehow finding it unbearable to see the sadness and reverie in her own brown eyes. It was just about heartbreaking, and with the turmoil they had already suffered, she didn't think she could take it anymore. She needed to focus… concentrate on something other than the past… though the past was her life, and its alteration was her future.

Forcing herself out of her room, her senses kicked into play as soon as she stepped foot out of the door, shrugging her shoulder-length hair back out of her face. It bobbed lightly around her face as she walked, feathery bangs framing her cheeks, before she caught a scent… and honed in on it, following it precisely to its point of origin.

Furrowing her brow, she automatically tracked it, and found her feet tracing their way directly to the room that belonged to Mina Harker, the resident vampire, and all round individual in the building. The other two occupants were both lycanthropes… werewolves, and neither was as intelligent as the vampire herself. She far outmatched them for wit and brainpower, whereas Anise liked to think that she and Mina were equally placed for prowess, speed, stealth and in some examples, even skill.

When she had come outside Mina's door, she gave in to manners, and knocked lightly, finding it slightly ajar. She pushed it open lightly with a hand, palm against the wood, and peered inside, seeing the Englishwoman coming out of her bathroom, a damp cloth in her hands. She looked up at once, and met Anise's curious gaze.

"You went out," Anise stated simply. "Have you just got back?" True, her language had lulled a little over the past century, but her accent was still as subtly present as it had ever been. Her vocabulary – as with her fellow werewolf and Mina – had changed dramatically, and it showed in each sentence. The structure was less rigid, and it was slightly more fluidic.

"I did," Mina responded plainly. She nodded, and her hair – only marginally longer than Anise's – wavered slightly in its position, flowing smoothly around her face, having just been brushed through. "I needed to feed."

Anise stepped into the room, her heart skipping a beat. She swallowed the lump in her throat as that all too painfully familiar scent bit at her senses, and she whispered, "You saw him…"

Mina visibly gnawed lightly at her bottom lip, and tossed the lightly bloodstained cloth onto the desk beside her, sighing sadly, and nodding, tilting her face at such an angle that wispy layers of auburn-brown hair fell across her flawless, mature features. "Yes I did…"

Anise's breath caught in her throat. She breathed a little swifter after she gathered herself enough to come to her senses, and narrowed her eyes in pensive regard of the situation. "You _spoke_ to him…?"

Mina averted her gaze at this point, and glanced out the window at the sun as it filtered through the tall buildings of the city beyond their abode. Another heavy sigh heaved her chest in a slow rise and fall as she closed her blue eyes for just a moment, breathing out an affirmative, "I did…"

Anise bowed her head, unsure of what to make of this information. In the century that had passed since Tom Sawyer's turning into the assassin that was Exuro… she had barely seen him. Her fellow lycanthrope, and Mina, would very rarely allow it. When they were certain Exuro would be present at 'meetings'… they ensured an excuse to make her remain behind, lest her powerful emotions get in the way of her judgement.

She wasn't sure what to make of this twist, but finally came out with, "How many other times have there been… where you have not told me?"

Mina turned halfway from the window, and tucked some of her silky hair behind her ear as she shrugged. "Honestly? I've lost count."

Anise blinked back a single tear, and lifted her head. "Why did you keep it secret?"

Mina eyed her seriously then, and responded, "Because I see the tears now in your eyes, though you try to hide them… and I knew every time that I came across the man we once knew and perhaps loved in our own ways that you would not be able to withhold your passion for him… and it could get you killed. Each encounter… if I told you, you would scour the city for him… hunt for him, and you yourself would become the hunted. They did not become the world's best assassins, he as their leader, by forgiving past trespasses, Anise, and you know this… he is not who he once was."

Anise flared internally at the retaliation, and simply said, "Yes he is… _inside_… he is."

Mina sighed sadly, and came forward, reaching out a hand and tenderly running it down Anise's arm in the fashion of an old friend. "Even after one hundred years… you still mourn for his death."

Anise turned her eyes away, afraid to betray her emotions for a moment as they collided and worked furiously against her, before she pulled in a calm, deep breath, met Mina's gaze firmly, and corrected, "He is not dead… he is simply lost." She saw the flicker of recognition in Mina's eyes, and quickly persisted sternly, optimistically, "He can be found again."

Mina simply stared back into her brown eyes with clear blue for a moment, seemingly on the verge of denial, before a slight smile broke out on her full lips. "He rubbed off on you," she said softly, gently. "I can hear it in your words… the promise with which you speak is unmistakable as his…"

_The optimism_, she thought to herself, permitting a slight smile of her own, just turning up the edges of her mouth on the left ever so subtly. _He did have an impact on me in more ways than one it seems._ She missed that… but she had dedicated her days – along with her companions – to correcting the terrible mistake.

Sighing lightly, Anise let out a slight, not entirely humoured laugh, and nodded. "We should get back to work. Did you learn anything about them last night?"

Frowning slightly, Mina replied, "Nothing much that I wish to share with you, I'm afraid. Needless to say, it was nothing we had not seen before."

Anise knew the meaning hidden behind these words. She had seen the instinctual affection between Exuro and Falx, and knew it to mean their status as lovers had flared… she had lost Tom Sawyer to the woman, and it made her furious and melancholy both at the same time, so fierce that it threatened to tear her apart from within. Mina had undoubtedly seen the pair today, and with another light sigh – something she was doing more and more often recently – she walked with Mina out of the woman's personal room, and down the hall to where their third member would be waiting… he always was. He was an early riser by nature, and this never failed to amuse and surprise Anise, given her inherited laziness.

In perfect unison – though neither registered such odd timing – they strode through the hall, and into their main room, where a large table was centrepiece, strewn with photographs, blueprints, documents and notes. Standing at one side of the table with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand – no doubt dispensed from the fresh percolator at the far wall – with his head down and one palm flat on the tabletop was a man who Anise felt was very close to her heart… a man who – even in all her years knowing him – she only knew as Dmitri. He was bordering on seven feet when he stood to his full height, with muscular – yet not overly so – limbs and torso, broad shouldered and chested, but with perhaps the kindest and softest eyes she had ever seen, especially for someone his size, and a werewolf. He had brown eyes, dark but soothing, and almost black hair that was gently spiked off the top of his skull. The eyes rose from the documents as he became aware of their presence, and he smiled wanly, ever alert, but ever pensive and somewhat melancholy, as though the mistakes of years past were all crashing down inside of him and putting a great burden upon either soul or heart… perhaps both.

Anise smiled, and walked up beside him, greeting him with a gaze that bore more than any words could ever accomplish, and settled down into study and thought beside him, with Mina taking up residence opposite, the three taking up their daily routine once again…

* * *

A fake explosion ripped through the expansive room, with its leather furniture, stocked from floor to ceiling with every commodity to please _any_ of the greediest individuals in the entirety of America. Hi-fi, wide screen television, surround sound, a range of – for some bizarre reason – console computer game sets, not to mention the variety of entertainment paraphernalia that littered shelves, the front of the TV, and around the stereo. The surround sound was being abused, first thing on a Saturday morning, with the Roadrunner cartoon at full blast.

The person watching it was slouched unhealthily in a reclining leather armchair, his booted feet up on a low coffee table of sorts, one leg crossed lazily over the other. His jeans were belted at the top, black in colour, and tough, hardy and longwearing. They were of the highest, most expensive quality, as had been his boots at first purchase, with steel toecaps and thick soles. He wore a short-sleeved black shirt, unbuttoned at the top to expose his chest halfway as he leant back in the chair a little more. He almost blended into it, with his dark clothing and mood. He practically radiated irritation… or boredom… _serious_ boredom.

His green eyes stared blankly at the screen as the coyote fell animatedly off a cliff with a whistling noise, and made a rather impressive impact, but his face never changed in its blank, brooding expression. His blonde hair was in its usual hanging, dishevelled feral style, with slightly curled locks of it hanging around his brow and eyes, his ears, and tickling his neck at the back, not that he ever noticed. His somewhat boyish features did not even alter in the slightest when the roadrunner charged into the scene at the flattened, sign-wielding coyote, and beeped at him.

His hands were draped lazily and casually over the ends of the arms of the chair. His right was empty; whereas his left held a cigarette he wasn't even smoking. The smoke coiled up from the lit tip of the cigarette, filling the air around him with its smoggy, nicotine smell, but he just blinked slowly, and stared right through it, his lycanthropy battling the smoke so that it didn't choke him or make him uncomfortable.

He sighed lightly, his somewhat broad and muscular chest rising and falling a little with the exertion of the exaggerated breath. Exuro cocked his head against the padded side of the chair, flicked the ash off the end of the wasting cigarette, and quirked a brow ever so subtly as the coyote strapped himself to an ACME rocket.

"Moron," he mumbled. "Gives canines a fucking bad name."

"You know how Falx feels about language," grumbled a rough voice from the large open doors behind him. No doubt Exuro's TV-watching had woken him up, and the alpha couldn't help but smile at that. It was seven-forty in the morning.

"Yeah, she loves it," Exuro returned, and eyed the cigarette for just a moment, even as Gladius walked around to rest down on the three-seater somewhat edgily. "Especially _that_ kind." He glanced sidelong at Gladius, who rolled his eyes openly, making Exuro smile all the broader at his slight victory. 'Once upon a time' – to coin one of the cheesiest phrases ever created – Falx had been alpha alongside _Gladius_ instead, not _Exuro_. The two had never been close, and the new alpha had discovered that this was because Falx had never really appreciated Gladius in that manner. He never 'did it for her' apparently, which only increased the younger werewolf's mirth whenever he saw the now-scarred omega.

Gladius looked to the slouching Exuro, and sighed loudly. "You're not even smoking that."

"I know I'm not," was his blunt response, and he watched the rocket go amazingly wide, slamming into a cliff. He shook his head slowly, subtly from side to side. "I changed my mind after lighting it. You can have it if you want it." He smiled slyly.

Gladius rolled his eyes again, even as light footfalls were heard, and arms snaked around the front of the leather chair, running caressingly down Exuro's partially exposed chest, the nails scraping slightly, but not painfully. He felt the silk of her gown, and smiled, even as she craned her head over the top of the chair. He bowed his up to meet hers, and granted her the kiss she desired. He found she was most affectionate after a good night's rest… not that they'd got in before four in the morning, of course. So… in reality, she hadn't had all that much sleep at all.

Mostly just to amuse Falx, Exuro flicked the wasting cigarette butt towards Gladius, who growled and swatted it away, before picking it up and extinguishing it roughly in the ashtray on the table, near the alpha's crossed boots. Exuro grinned mockingly at him, and Falx laughed lightly down his ear, as she nibbled on it slightly. After that, she weaved her way gracefully and seductively around the chair, and perched herself over him, her face near him, her long fingers tracing slowly and precisely through his tousled hair, her ice blue eyes watching the roadrunner disappear in a cloud of bird-shaped dust. She smiled just at the corner of her full, red lips, and Exuro watched her for a moment, even as Gladius huffed, stood up, and headed for the kitchen adjacent to the entertainment-cum-living room.

"Someone's a sour-puss," Falx purred and breathed a heavy sigh, rubbing her face alongside Exuro's possessively for a moment, and tickling the area at the base of his skull, under his hair. He closed his eyes and moaned quietly.

_She certainly knows how to push buttons_, he thought in his contentment. "He's just pissed… as always."

"Good point," she murmured, and smiled again as the coyote exploded. "That coyote is a real–"

"Jackass?" Exuro finished, and she didn't even need to nod for him to know she agreed. He opened his eyes as she stopped teasing at the back of his neck, and kissed his temple instead, asking, "Seen Lacertus this morning? He's getting lazy."

"I'm not lazy," yawned a voice from behind them. Exuro didn't need to look to know the other lycanthrope was leaning arms-crossed against the doorframe in nothing but boxers and a bathrobe, black curled hair falling around his face, brown eyes intent on the cartoon. Lacertus had certainly kept hold of his human adolescence. Exuro wasn't sure what had happened to his, and he didn't really care. Falx was staring at him, almost pleadingly, and he cocked a brow, smiling mischievously at her.

With a light, playful growl, she used one finger to tilt his chin up, and kissed him passionately and hungrily, fiercely, once again. Her warmth flowed into him, and he ran a hand lightly up her partially bare arm, running over the red silk of her gown as she shifted slightly on his lap, one of her hands straying to the belt on his pants. He broke from the kiss with a light laugh, and said, "Ah, not now, Falx… sorry."

She pouted impressively, and he kissed her lightly, whispering, "Later," against her lips as they parted. She almost purred, and leaned against him, as the cartoon ended. Exuro couldn't remember where he had put the remote, even as Lacertus padded past, and into the kitchen, returning moments later with a bagel, and from the smell of it, toasted. It was plain, and Exuro had observed that the other young member preferred them as such. He hopped over the top of the couch, and planted himself where Gladius had been sitting, flicking through the channels with the enthusiasm of road kill. He barely stayed on each channel for more than two seconds before flicking, and Exuro tried not to take notice of the flashing screen.

"Dammit, Lac'," he finally growled, quite literally on the abbreviated name. "You gonna cut that out or do I have to do it for you?" Though he didn't move a muscle, he had finely honed the skill of being imposing in the most unthreatening of positions… such as slouching with his lover on his lap, in her bathrobe.

Lacertus' brown eyes met Exuro's green ones, and he swallowed the mouthful of plain bagel he was eating, before he shrugged, and muttered, "Sorry. Nothin' on anyway. Saturday shows suck."

"How the hell do you know?" Exuro retaliated, temper gone for the time being. In reality, he and Lacertus coexisted rather well for males in the same 'pack'. They were more like brothers than anything… but it went deeper than that. More than once in the past, Exuro had protected that which he considered to be his second in command. "You never stay on one channel long enough to let the picture come into focus." Lacertus grinned at him youthfully, sly and cunning, and took another bite out of his half-bagel, the other half on his raised knee.

Gladius hadn't emerged from the kitchen yet, and Exuro looked around Falx. "You see him in there?" he asked Lacertus, who nodded, chewing hungrily. Exuro often wondered where the other werewolf's monstrous appetite came from… in both human _and_ wolf forms.

"He's not dead or anything is he?" Falx questioned, toying with the first fastened button on the shirt of her alpha lover, her pale eyes downcast distractedly. "'Cause that'd be a… shame." Her sarcasm was like dripping venom, and Exuro's eyes were filled with delight at her tone. He loved her when she was like this… it was Falx at her best.

"Nah, he's alive," Lacertus muttered, shrugging, and mouthing 'shame'. "He's just staring out the window like he normally does." Lacertus was silent for a moment, staring blankly at the deactivated TV screen, before he turned on the stereo with the remote, letting a heavy beat blare out through the room, as he simply said, "Freak."


	4. Things Set In Motion

**Author's Note:** Sorry it took me so long to release this one. I had to think of a chapter title and proofread it, etc. Plus, I had writer's block for a while on everything – AGAIN – so it put me off updating. Bleh, enough of my excuses.

**Marcus Lazarus:** FTS – I like it. I'm very glad you liked the cartoon-watching part. When I was writing the story that night, I just HAD to do it, y'know? It was one of those urges that I just went with, but I'm glad it does something for the character, in your opinion. I love messing with their innocence. Woods and Co quite possibly turn up in this chapter.

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** Thanks for the review. Glad you liked the chapter.

**queerquail** Hehe, glad you liked the Roadrunner bit. I think you quite possibly are right about my updates. I sit around for a while, realise what I'm NOT doing, and feel bad, and then force everything out in the space of two days, heh. Guess I should get a steady flow going, huh?

**Drakena the Destroyer:** Aha, you noticed the _Underworld_ undertone. I'm sure others have noticed; they just haven't said. There's something else in here that might remind you of that film too. Sadly, you are right; no Henry in this story, save for perhaps flashbacks. You'll find out about Skinner and Henry, don't worry.

**BloodMoonLycan:** Hehehehe, it's so very hard not to love that image of Exuro. Glad you did. You must do this drawing… and I must see it! And thanks; I'm insane when it comes to descriptions – sometimes I can just get carried away. Uh oh… Falx glaring? RUN!

**drowchild** You feel bad for Gladius? Eeep. Ah well. Someone's got to I suppose. Glad you love the werewolves.

**Silversnow:** Glad you're liking it. Here's the new chapter for you.

There is a slight warning on this chapter, for some content, and a little language. Thank you.

Without any further ado, here is Part Four of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

* * *

Gladius stood, staring silently and thoughtfully out of the window, hearing every single word that the other three were saying, even with the almost deafening level of noise blaring from those damn speakers. Perhaps they were trying to cover their voices… somehow, he doubted it. Why should they care about his reaction to such words? When had they _ever _cared? He didn't care… he couldn't have cared _less_ in fact. They were pathetic… all three of them.

Sighing, he stared out of that window into the sun's rays as they filtered through the tall buildings, and so wished he could go out amongst it all and just lose himself… but he knew they would damn well follow him to all ends of the earth just to see what he was up to. They didn't trust him as it was… not that he blamed them. He hardly gave them reason to trust him.

He caught a flash of his reflection in the face of the glass, suppressing the growl when he saw the telltale gash of a scar running down the side of his once-perfect and handsome face… not that he was especially unattractive now. But that _child_ had ruined it… he had defeated him in that accursed challenge, and stolen Gladius' rightful position and title as alpha male.

Growling audibly then, and narrowing his eyes, he saw – not to mention _felt_ – them wane into green… something he barely understood. Many years ago, they had been yellow when melting into lycanthropy… but now they were a vivid shade of almost emerald green. He didn't mind at all… it only served to set him apart from that arrogant, annoying brat Lacertus even further.

Smiling only slightly, he settled into watching that sun, crossing his arms, and sighing lightly to himself.

_Patience is a virtue…_

* * *

Technology had just about taken over their world, she knew, as she looked down at the object in her hand, the wind tugging lightly at her auburn hair as it flowed freely around her shoulders, framing her flawless face in the oddest and most enchanting way, almost as if it were alive. From the subtle change of horse-drawn carriage to the automobile, and from Morse code to this… these _things_ haunted her everywhere she went, their shrill song disturbing her sensitive hearing greatly, only serving to remind her of that blasted recording M had sent them on Nemo's Nautilus… oh, where was that great, majestic submarine now? The last she had known… returning to India. That had been some thirty years ago.

Sighing, staring down at the cell phone, she recalled the faces of those she had grown to call friends… her second family. The _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_. She missed them greatly. Their adventures and missions together had – in a strange way – warmed her in a way she had never felt… and she yearned for it again. A single tear burned in her blue eyes as she remembered…

Doctor Henry Jekyll had been the second to go, after their first loss in Woods' underground base. Dr. Jekyll… had been a touching, compassionate man, who had taken the time to ensure those around him were comfortable and healthy, despite his own internal demons in the form of Edward Hyde, his monstrous alter ego. He had gone out a hero… forever to be remembered – at least by her – as a warrior, and a gentle spirit.

Rodney Skinner had gone next, attempting valiantly to protect someone… giving his life in the attempt, and robbing her of another loved one. She had mourned for the gentlemen thief more than she thought she ever would have, and despite herself, she couldn't help but recall his mischievous antics in their days spent together, his invisibility both a blessing and a curse.

Allan Quatermain… had retired to Africa once again, back to the dark continent he had loved so much… the loss in their first mission after his return striking him a powerful and scarring blow, one that had contended with the death of his son. Mina Harker had stayed with him as he had slipped into senility, and ensured his last days had not been lonely ones. She had watched him decay and slip away… perhaps so slowly she hadn't even really noticed at first. In the night… she had found him gone.

Captain Nemo, of course, had been lost in that mission to recover Tom Sawyer… they had failed them both in that dark time. Both had – if only in a sense, for one at least – died that day… one murdered… the other the murderer. Nemo had been killed horribly by what had once been Tom Sawyer. After he had been drugged, the alter ego – as savage as it was – that was Exuro had taken over, and the once mischievous, innocent and charming young American had torn the Indian apart, almost literally. She so wished she wouldn't remember that…

A tear fell, and steeling her resolve, forcing her eyes from the phone, she dialled, feeling the pad beneath her feminine fingers, and connecting the call. She had managed to acquire the number through what little sources the three of them kept in the city and beyond. They weren't in the habit of making friends, for fear of dragging them into their ordeal… nor were they keen to make any more enemies. They had enough of those to deal with as it was. She brought the small cell phone to her ear, and heard it ring, urging the person on the other end to answer.

They didn't disappoint. "Hello?" came the somewhat gruff voice of the replier, and there was that ever-present wariness in their tone she had grown so accustomed to.

"I need your help…"

* * *

He strode purposefully through the polished and spotless corridors of his expansive, grand building, his heels connecting firmly with the floor below, and sounding his presence for anyone attentive enough to hear it. He was _not_ in a pleasant mood, and he had intent on his mind. This little problem was really starting to grate on his few remaining nerves, and he wanted it sorted… and _fast_.

Ever since his great-grandfather had gotten it into his head that super soldiers could be created and controlled, he had practically thrown his entire country into disarray… the fool hadn't thought it through, covered his bases and put any backup plans into action… and it had all blown up in his face.

Now Samuel Woods was having to deal with it all, and it was starting to – frankly – piss him off. More than anything else he could think of. Like all the men in his family, Samuel loved… no, _adored_ his country, and would do anything for it. Even die, probably – but only as a last resort, obviously. He was desperate, but not _that_ desperate. It was a while before it came to that yet.

His great-grandfather – Sebastian Woods – had had a vision… and for a while, as a child, Samuel had found this vision brilliant and fascinating. But now he was older – much older – and wiser, and liked to think he had a good head on his shoulders… after all, he did pretty much _run_ the country… his ancestor had seen to that.

For a time, the plan and vision had worked, been successful… Samuel was sure – somewhere deep inside – that it had been beautiful. The soldiers had done as they were told, obeyed orders, and genuinely weaned out the weak from the strong with a kind of strict malice becoming true warriors. But over time… and not _much_ time either – the powerful drugs Sebastian Woods had used had started to change and alter, twisting and reshaping the minds of those they were used on. The effects had started to take on a new shape, and soon… the temporary – and brutal – personalities of those under its control had taken over completely. The humans – as close as – had been lost, and the soldiers had broken loose. They hadn't responded to commands anymore, and Sebastian had lost them entirely… almost died in the attempt to regain them, in fact.

Now it was up to Samuel to clean up the mess left by his now-dead ancestor. The Quattuor – as they so arrogantly called themselves – were the painful thorns in his side, constantly ruining his days and always presenting new problems. They had tried to reason with them, and never seen their negotiators again. They had tried _paying_ them… and watched as their messengers had been burned with the money offered. He was beyond the point of reason, and as he slammed open the doors to his main laboratory-cum-strategy room, he got it firmly into his head that this was going to end… and soon.

Marching up to his best mind, Erik Strand, he said, "Have we got anything?"

In this room, his smartest and quickest workers planned and thought, using the newest technologies and techniques to try and concoct ways to reverse this major error. Laptops and blueprints, surveillance photos and chemicals were strewn in an organised manner all over the room.

Strand turned to Samuel, and said timidly at first, "Not exactly, sir."

Samuel sighed irritably, locking eyes with the other man. "That's not good enough, Strand, I'm running out of patience, you know that. I've given you enough chances… they won't last."

"Yes, sir… we just need a little more time."

Without warning, Samuel's hand grabbed out, snatching the front of Strand's shirt and tie, and yanking him forward, face to face with him, as he growled at him angrily, "This has gone on _long_ enough, you hear me?" A nod. "I want it taken care of, by _any_ means necessary… is. That. _Clear_?"

Strand nodded frantically, and Samuel released him roughly, turning and leaving the room. If he didn't hear something within a couple of hours, he knew he wouldn't be able to trust to his temper. Short of some hair-brained scheme – as seen in the movies – Samuel was willing to try anything.

* * *

The lazy atmosphere had not changed since that morning, and if anything, three out of the four had only relaxed further. A few beer bottles sat on the long coffee table in the centre of the leather couch arrangement, and music blared full blast from the expensive stereo, heavy drum and guitar beats, explicit lyrics and synthesised instruments playing ridiculously loud throughout the top floor of the huge building. If any of the other occupants of the apartments on the floors below disliked the noise, none of them were brave enough to voice as such. They had heard odd sounds from the top residence before, and were in no hurry to irritate the four strange individuals who were scarcely seen in the daytime. They had heard ridiculous tales that the four were in some way related to the mass of outbursts throughout New York, but no one ventured to investigate.

Lacertus sat – queerly enough – upside down, his youthful – misleadingly so – black locks toppling around the couch beneath him as he closed his brown eyes and hummed along with the rhythm of one of his favourite songs. A guitar lay near to him, black, acoustic, and expensive… like everything else in the apartment… including its occupants.

Exuro and Falx were on the same chair as that morning, the female werewolf straddling her lover's lap, and running her feminine hands slowly up his chest. His black shirt shifted around her long fingers, and the eyes of the two locked powerfully. Green gazed intensely into blue, and the fiery-haired woman leaned forward, her lips claiming his hungrily. She growled into him, and his hands ran over the seat of her leather pants steadily, coming to rest on her exposed waist and lower back. Her short top left little of her upper half to the imagination… not that Exuro minded.

Falx's right hand – adventurous as it was – ran down his chest again, toying around his belt for a moment or two, before pushing lower… and she shifted on his lap.

He groaned, and pulled out of the kiss, eyes closed, trying not to think about where her right hand was venturing. He was trying to concentrate on her left at the point where his jaw met his neck, her thumb stroking the side of his face. She practically purred at him, smiling beautifully and seductively. He pulled in a sudden deep breath, and she laughed quietly, her lips brushing along the side of his face, to his ear.

Lacertus opened his eyes halfway, peering at his rather lustful alphas.

_ Better than with Gladius anyway_, he thought, and rolled agilely to sit the right way up, picking up the guitar, positioning it across one knee, and plucking and strumming out a few chords. He gazed to the alphas again, seeing Exuro's expression, before quickly averting his attention to the speakers, wondering where Gladius had gotten to. They had seen fleeting glances of him, but not much else.

Lacertus set aside the guitar again, and slouched, even as he smelt him. Gladius strode into the room and towards the couch where Lacertus sat. He rolled his eyes, and lifted a foot onto the seat. Childish? Yes… mean? Definitely not. Gladius was an ass, even more so than he had been before, if that was possible.

He watched – or rather sensed – the omega move past the gap between the two occupied seats, seeing the hand stroke over the set aside guitar.

"Break that and I'll smash your jaw," growled Exuro possessively, and inwardly, Lacertus laughed. Falx's icy gaze peered to Gladius' passing form, and with a sigh, she sat up straighter on her mate once again, who let out a slow breath.

"Oh, don't let _me _stop you," Gladius sneered, picking out a cigarette from the packet on the table, and sitting casually on the third chair, a two-seater.

Exuro growled again, a silencing sound if ever Lacertus had heard one. Gladius sighed, and lit his cigarette. The four descended – with the exception of the stereo blaring – into brooding silence, the smoke from Gladius' cigarette slowly drifting around the room to make a kind of ring. Lacertus shifted to stare up at the ceiling, and stayed that way for many minutes, simply watching the smoke curl.

He perked up as soon as the slight disturbance in the air hit him, and he craned his neck curiously. Exuro felt it, as well as Falx, and then the shrill ringing pierced the air.

"Lac'," Exuro said, and indicated the stereo.

Lacertus flipped the stereo remote from the edge of the table into his hand, and hit pause, even as Falx pulled out Exuro's cell phone for him. She gave it to him, brushing some hair from his brow, and leaned to his left as he flipped open the phone.

As usual, Exuro didn't speak first, letting whoever was on the other side break the silence. Lacertus' interest was piqued… only potential clients were able to acquire their contact number. As for their address… no one had ever successfully tailed them, and whoever had tried had failed to return from the attempts. That didn't stop other idiots from trying though.

"Is this the Quattuor?"

"Who's asking and why?" Exuro deadpanned, letting Falx toy with his hair.

The other three could easily make out the male voice on the other side of the phone, and they were silent, listening intently.

"Nathaniel Granger… I'm his representative–"

"Fuck you," Exuro said then. "I don't talk with 'representatives'… I talk with clients. When Granger gets the balls, you tell him to give us a call."

Even as Exuro moved to close the phone, the voice quickly blurted, "Ten million."

The green eyes glanced first into blue, then brown… before he switched the call to loudspeaker, and sat it on the arm of the chair. "Talk."

Lacertus subconsciously drummed out a rhythm on his pant leg as the man started talking, "His name is Simon Pender. He's a high roller in the lower profile establishments around the city. He's owed Mr. Granger a substantial amount of money for seven months now… and he's missed his last deadline."

"So," Exuro began slowly, pensively, "you want to pay _us _ten million to knock off some petty gambler who owes Granger money… you're gonna give _us _money to kill the guy who can pay back your _boss_?"

"Mr. Granger's patience has run out," the man said. "He's reached the point where seeing Pender dead will satisfy more than reclaiming on the debt."

"Stupid son of a bitch," Lacertus mumbled under his breath, seeing Falx's slight smile.

"And how would he like to go about this?"

"Method and disposal are up to you. He has no preferences."

"We don't do disposal."

"… Very well. There's a bar downtown that Pender frequents – The Grind. Mr. Granger can arrange to send some men to collect the body after you're finished."

"When?" Exuro leaned his head back, almost bored.

"Tomorrow night."

"Payment."

"Half before–"

"All upfront, all before, cash… or no deal." Exuro sighed. Lacertus smiled.

A silence hovered, in which Gladius took a long drag off his cigarette, waiting, before the man confirmed. "Fine. We'll meet before at a location of your choice."

Lacertus grinned wolfishly, and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he listened to the details being finalised, drumming out his rhythm on his pants once again, losing himself in an internal melody before hearing the phone snap shut.

The brown eyes opened again, and Lacertus glanced to Exuro inquisitively.

"Up for a job, Lac'?"

Grinning once again, Lacertus knew Exuro hadn't even needed an answer to that.

* * *

Anise laid her head forward in her hands, her head swelling with the migraine. She groaned quietly, and opened her eyes to look down at the face on the photo below her. She frowned, feeling the tears burn at her eyes as always. Sighing, she traced her fingers through her hair, and took in the details, remembering the past and the first time she had studied them.

It had been an alley in Paris, pistols drawn, the atmosphere tense. Of course, she had been working behind his back then…

Those hazel-flecked green eyes, that unruly blonde hair, his youthful – almost boyish – handsome face, the confidence in his stride… Tom Sawyer had had her attention from the get go, and she remembered it as if it were yesterday. She almost wished it was.

A tear or two tumbled, and she was vaguely aware of being watched. Dmitri and Mina stood some ten feet back, silent and observant.

_ Get a grip on yourself, Anise_, she told herself, and pulled in a deep breath, closing the file quickly lest she find herself unable to later on.

Anise tore herself from her chair, and walked to get _another _cup of coffee… seven in one day was under her average actually. But today had seemed so slack… they had barely done anything, and even with Mina's excursion the night before, they were no closer.

"Anise," the vampire began, and the female werewolf turned. "I may know of someone who can help."

* * *

The large line of cumbersome vehicles pulled up alongside the warehouse-like building. They halted in a group, and the lead vehicle's passenger door opened, revealing a man in an impressive suit, and air of military experience about him as he hopped down to the ground, dark, narrow eyes taking in the frame of the building laid out before him.

"How did you find this place?" Robert Larson asked.

Another man came up beside him, their frosted blonde-brown hair tugged by the wind. His eyes studied the building as well, as he replied, "You know me. I have my ways."

Robert Larson couldn't help but laugh. If nothing else, Donovan Masters could make the ex-general laugh, and that was enough for him to prove his worth. But on top of that, Masters had top skills and experience in hand to hand, guns, marksmanship and strategising. An irreplaceable asset in this time of change.

"Get the men inside," Robert commanded of his right hand, "and see that everything' set up."

"Sir," Masters acknowledged, and set off to do so.

Quietly, to no one but himself, Robert added, "We've got work to do…"


	5. Pieces In Place

**Author's Note:** This one gets a little more action to it than we've had so far, so I hope you enjoy the nice change in pace. A little violent here a there… but I'm sure you'll get over it _smiles::_

**Marcus Lazarus:** Glad you find it interesting. Thanks for the review. If it wasn't so early in the morning, the acknowledgement might be longer oO

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** Cute couple? Heh, you're the first one to say that.

**LotRseer3350** Intensity is good. And evil is fun.

**BloodMoonLycan:** Glad I can keep you interested. Eeep, Falx seems to have taken a disliking to you oO.

**funyun** I suppose you could call the Quattuor childish in a fashion. They're spoilt… in that they spoil _themselves_. Glad you like Woods. And no, Mina's not an underling, but you'll see as it goes along.

**Drakena:** Glad you liked Mina's remembrance. And… Falx is supposed to be that way oO She's an alpha female werewolf. It's kinda her job to whore on her lover… you don't like the character? Oo And about Jason Flemyng… um… sorry?

**Sethoz:** Thanks for the comments, 'Thoz. Exuro… I have too much fun, heh. XD

Thanks for the reviews, guys. Here's the update of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

* * *

Simon Pender considered his hand, glanced over his cards to his fellow gamblers, and then grinned slyly behind the concealment, as crude as it was. His hazel eyes flickered curiously to his companions again, seeing their pensive expressions, and then his young face slipped into nonchalance… the perfect poker face, he had always thought. Neat black hair – or thereabouts – sat atop his head, combed forward, with the slightest flick at the front, shadowing his brow. He wore somewhat tidy clothing. A dark denim jacket and jeans, a white shirt with black sleeveless tee below it, and boots… which had last been polished about ten months ago. On his left wrist was a silver watch, and on his right middle finger was a gold band.

He was confident… almost to the point of boredom, actually. He knew he was damn good at his game, and nothing could ruin his mood… even the two brooding so-and-sos at the pool table. He had seen them come in, silently – at least outside of themselves – and dejectedly, moodily and ominously. One had black hair, curled and youthful, the other with blonde, shorter and with a less obvious curl to it. He hadn't got close enough to see their eyes, but both had had a darkness… like their clothes. What was with these brooding types and black anyway? Were they trying to prove something?

Rolling his eyes, he saw his fellow players lay down their cards in turn, and when it came to his time, the others were almost pained as they waited… and Simon put them out of their misery, grinning as he reached forward to collect his winnings. "Thanks for the game, gentlemen. I'll be on my way."

His fellow players growled and grumbled, but let him leave nevertheless. Thankfully, they weren't in the mood for argument. Simon had just about cleaned out their pockets and their spirits for the night, and for that, he was thankful.

With little debt and a somewhat rude song in his mind, he made for the bathroom. He stayed inside for only a few minutes, and then headed for the back door, so much more favourable than the front. The front housed innumerable whores and floozies who would only try and divert his attention, and after having a couple of beers, Simon wasn't quite in the right mind to refuse, he was certain. His girlfriend would certainly not agree with _that_ little… accident, as he would call it.

Smiling a little with a light laugh, he sighed, and pocketed his hands, looking up to the midnight sky, eyeing the stars as they twinkled down a little. The half moon waned slowly and majestically, and it was almost peaceful…

At least until a hand grabbed around his face, over his mouth, silencing him, and he reached up to struggle, but the fingers latched on so tightly, he thought he felt them draw blood. He yelped behind the hand, and tried to wriggle free, mind swelling and coursing with fear and confusion. Stupid back entrance…

From before him, an eerie figure melted out of the shadows, two silver narrowed slits glinting oddly for a moment, before the form became solid, and he recognised them as the blonde young man from inside the bar. There was almost no expression on their face, and he held no weapon. His black duster fluttered around his booted ankles for a moment, and he turned his head to look at Simon almost curiously… before he felt the blinding, numbing agony in his back, and tried to scream out for help, moments before feeling the subsequent jerk on the dagger that had plunged in near his spine. There was a crack and a squelch… and everything fell still.

Simon Pender went limp in Lacertus' arms, and slowly, the lycanthrope let the man fall to the ground, pulling out his dagger and regarding the bloodied blade. The spine had been severed savagely with just one twist, and the brown eyes regarded Exuro, who cocked his head.

"Well," Exuro deadpanned, sighing as he looked to Lacertus, "_that_ was boring."

* * *

Mina walked in front, her heels clicking quietly on the street below her, and the park was not far from where they were at present. It would take them only a couple of minutes more before they arrived. She had let the other two – the werewolves – in on the rendezvous as much as possible, trusting them enough to let them hear what she planned to do with this alliance, as it were.

Just as she had suspected, the park came into sight… and the scent hit her like a wave. She hadn't realised how much she would remember it, and the memories it stirred were so vivid, she almost reeled. The two behind her either didn't notice, or didn't comment, but when she turned her head to look at them, she noticed their combined furrowing of the brow, almost as if they had caught scent of something themselves. Surely they couldn't smell him as clearly as she could? Or… wait, was there something else?

That was when she heard him, and saw the flutter of the leaves in the tall tree ahead, as a form leapt out of it, rolling once in mid-air, and landing in a perfect, almost feline crouch. The head was lowered for a moment, one hand down on the ground, and she saw the gorgeous sword strapped to his back, glinting silver and ornate in the moonlight. His head lifted then, his brown, wild, feral and spiked hair out in all directions, not too different from what she remembered. His vibrant blue eyes regarded her, and she could just make out the very tips of his vampiric fangs at his thin lips, curved just slightly into a curious smile. Slowly, he rose to his full height of around six feet, if not a few inches more, and she took in his athletic, discreetly muscular frame, with his long arms, his agile legs, and his powerful torso. He wore an almost silken shirt, dark blue in shade, with wisps of silvery grey breaking the surface. Black trousers covered his legs, flaring ever so gracefully over thick, hardy boots. On one – his left – hand, he wore two rings, on his index and ring fingers, and on the other, just the thumb… all silver. Around his neck hung a beautiful pendant that she remembered so vividly, almost as if she had first studied it only yesterday. It was silver, adorned with two rubies, each one representing an eye for the great bat whose wings spread up his chest slightly. Its mouth was open, showing wicked teeth, but there was a weakness about it she had never been able to place… just like with him.

"Hello, Mina," he greeted smoothly, his voice like a bitter wine almost, American, slightly gruff… and stirring memories once again. They flashed through her, even as she smiled subtly in response.

"Ezekiel," she returned calmly, reaching out to shake his hand. "I knew you would come."

He shook her hand back in return. "Did I really have a choice?"

Somewhat quietly, she returned firmly, "You always had a choice." They looked into each other's blue eyes for a long time, lost there, but with little to no expression on their faces.

"I'm not alone… not that I suppose you thought I _would_ be, right?" he said to her suddenly, stepping back, and arching a lean brow, the shadow they cast over his eyes enchanting in its own, almost sinister way.

Mina nodded, and Anise and Dmitri came up beside her, staying a little ways behind, just in case.

From the very same tree came another figure, and they twisted spryly around the thick branch on which they had been perched, dropping down and bending their knees slightly with the landing. Their long, thin legs supported their equally lean frame easily, with discreet prowess in the form and limbs, leading up to a beautiful face, housing dark, inquisitive – even suspicious – eyes, black hair falling around the face, almost foreign in its skin tone. The hair itself shone almost copper under the wan light provided by the occasional lamp, and the moon, and it fell in locks, smooth and silky around her face as she tilted it slightly in consideration. Her clothing consisted of sleeveless vest, pale grey in colour, with dark jeans, and slightly heeled boots. A simple chain and locket hung about her neck, shining golden in the moonlight, and a single silver band was sat around her left ring finger. Mina arched a brow.

A third figure prowled stealthily out from behind the tree, and he moved so silently and carefully that not even the dry leaves under his boots dare whisper a sound. Brown eyes regarded the three strangers with intrigue and care, the gaze almost piercing. He had dirty blonde hair that fell in almost limp layers down around his broad jaw, past his brow and eyes, and down to where his neck met his cheekbones and chin. He moved with an otherworldly grace and precaution, and Mina immediately jumped to conclusions as to what he was. This was who Anise and Dmitri had smelt, she knew. He wore a leather jacket, cut to his calves, and under that he wore a white short-sleeved shirt. His dark jeans were somewhat baggy, allowing for give, only serving to further her suspicions.

"So, Mina," Ezekiel began, tilting his head the other way. "Gonna introduce me to your friends?" It wasn't a polite request. Ezekiel had always been somewhat forward with his requests.

Mina arched her own brow, still intrigued by this new woman, but obeyed anyway, "This is Anise Delacroix, and Dmitri. They are my friends, and my team mates… and yours?"

The man to Ezekiel's right lifted his chin slightly, brown eyes narrowing a little in pensive regard of Mina and her two companions.

"Illyria," Ezekiel introduced, the woman to his left bowing her head only slightly in acknowledgement, "and John Zariel. Colleagues."

"And more," Mina stated simply. Ezekiel grinned, and Illyria's right hand snaked up his arm slowly. Mina pulled in a breath, and nodded, confirming her mind's thoughts on the woman's identity… especially with that ring. Ezekiel nodded.

"Yes, she's my lover… any more questions?" He didn't let her respond, something that had always driven her crazy in their past. "If I may ask one of my own… they are…?"

Mina rolled her eyes. "Lycanthropes."

"Aha," he murmured, his voice almost fluidic for a moment. "Illyria is like us, and Zariel… would settle in well with your two companions, I should imagine… so long as they don't mind a little brooding." Ezekiel chuckled to himself, and Zariel managed a slight smile. "Now… next question… what's all this about?"

* * *

They had been on the move only about five minutes, and not a word had passed between them since meeting with Granger's people to see that the body of the gambler wasn't left in that alley. The black and silver Lotus drove steadily, but not slowly, down the street, weaving carefully and in a controlled manner in and out of the other traffic.

Suddenly, with a wild screech of tires, a black unmarked SUV tore onto the street behind their car, and the two of them swore in unison, the first of them yanking hard on the wheel, and ducking down a side alley, only just wide enough for the pursuing car to fit down. It even scraped off a wing-mirror in the process of the chase, and the lycanthropes' vehicle sped forward with a roar of the engine. Its black paintwork gleamed as they tore under the streetlights overhead, and burst out onto the street on the other side, the driver giving a vicious snarl of irritation. Why the hell were they being chased?

This made no sense. Of course, nothing as of late, since that night in the club upon getting reacquainted with Mina Harker… nothing made any goddamn sense. It was starting to seriously grate on his few remaining nerves.

Exuro turned his head to Lacertus in the passenger seat, whose eyes flashed a dangerous shade of yellow, even as the first werewolf snapped out, "Pop the roof."

Lacertus did so, and the detachable top to the car rocketed backwards, torn with the wind that was being ripped over the speeding vehicle, and sending it careering backwards, slamming forcefully into the large car behind them, which tried to swerve. The force of the collision sent them reeling with a wailing screech, and for a moment, they lost their pursuit…

Before another such vehicle skidded into the road ahead of Exuro and Lacertus. The two braced themselves, before Exuro gave a vicious tug on the wheel, succeeding in avoiding the collision, but making them spin around in a half-circle, until they were facing back the way they had come.

"What the _hell _do these guys want? They're starting to–"

"Piss you off?" Lacertus offered with a swift nod, and a growl. "Yeah. I second that."

With that, even as Exuro slammed his boot down on the gas once again, Lacertus tore one of his black polished Colt pistols from its leather holster at his waist, twisted himself agilely in his seat, and let off three shots in swift succession. The glass at the front of the second pursuit vehicle shattered inward with the pinpointed shots, and blood sprayed around the interior. Lacertus grinned wickedly, throwing a mocking wink at the stunned driver, before shoving himself back down in his seat, yelling, "Okay, go! I think I repaid a bit of the debt." He laughed, as did Exuro, the two mischievously amused by the payback. The car's wheels spun madly on the road for a while before the car sped forward again, and Exuro slammed it into gear subconsciously, seriously pushing the car to its limits, even as a mental flash took him back to the narrow streets of Venice. Growling irritably, he shoved the none-too-welcome memory aside, and swerved around the first SUV. The driver of the larger black vehicle watched them avoid them with a yell of frustration, before turning the SUV around, and giving a fresh course of pursuit.

Exuro cursed inwardly, glancing over his shoulder, along with Lacertus, at the chasing men. A horn in front of them made their eyes dart forward, and Exuro bit out a rather audible curse instead. "Shit!"

A third SUV had ploughed onto the scene, nearly taking out half the traffic already on the road as it did so. The lack of plates on the cars only served to anger Exuro further, as he considered their options.

The night had started so simply, with a routine hit for the two of them, which had been over in a matter of an hour. After that, they had planned to head back to their place, with their payment, and simply watch the world go by.

_ So much for **that **plan_, Exuro thought, and narrowly avoided slamming a truck. "Piece of crap." Exuro threw a silver glare in the direction of the startled driver, simply not caring as to whether the man saw or not… which he probably didn't in his daze, and pushed the vehicle on again, knowing he would have to take care of these guys sooner rather than later. Two of them were coming up quickly behind him now. The beginner with the nasty dent, and the third arrival. The under-manned vehicle was hanging back a little, perhaps in case the two tried doubling back again.

"Think you're smart, huh?" Exuro smirked, and Lacertus seemed to click as to what was going on, having returned his gun to its holster. "Ready?" he asked needlessly of his companion, who gave a single, gruff nod, which succeeded in tossing the black curls about his head slightly.

"Okay, guys… here we go." With that, he yanked on the handbrake, subsequently causing the rear tires to slam into position, throwing up steam and smoke as he did so, the wheels burning slightly with the friction on the road beneath. The two SUVs careened forward in surprise, only able to watch as the sports car sailed back behind them. Exuro barked out a laugh, and took off the handbrake with a flick of the wrist, piling on the speed once again with great vehemence. "Get ready, Lac'."

"I was _born _ready."

"Don't cliché me," Exuro told him with a grin, and the two laughed, even as Exuro hopped up, propping himself on his seat, and pushing his hands into his duster, perfectly balanced. When his hands came back out, they were each holding a mock-silver-plated Colt pistol, and he aimed one out on either side of him, waiting until Lacertus had – with his foot reached over the partition in the centre of the car – levelled them with the windows of the SUVs.

Smiling downward, and giving a mock sigh of disappointment, Exuro pulled on the triggers, continuously, until there were screams of agony or shock from inside his enemy's vehicles. Blood could be seen spilt inside each SUV, and before long, one spun to one side as the driver slumped dead against the wheel, causing it to ram into parked cars against one side of the street, subsequently flipping upward and over.

Lacertus laughed loudly with glee at the carnage, and threw back his head for a moment, even as the other SUV slammed to a halt. Exuro guessed he had winged the driver, and killed the passenger. As a parting gift, he twisted – using his agility and almost feline grace to do so – and let off his last shot into one of the tires of the same vehicle. The wheel burst with the impact, lowering one side of the car. Exuro flashed a cheeky grin at the still-living driver, and sunk back down into his seat, blonde hair flowing wildly about his head and face as he said, "That's a bit better. Just one sucker left, right?"

"Right." Lacertus had cast a glance behind him, even as another vehicle appeared. "Oh for… _two_, Ex'."

"God _dammit_!" Exuro slammed his palm against the top of the wheel, and drove around the traffic, knowing they were heading out towards the more deserted part of the road system… the highway. _Not many people around there at this time of night_. "Why can't they just… piss off? Who are these guys anyway?"

"Who knows? Vengeful maybe?" Lacertus wasn't even bothering to raise his voice. The heightened senses made short work of the noise for them, and they could hear each other perfectly as the entrance to the highway pulled into view. Exuro aimed straight for it.

He scoffed quietly. "Not likely. They have to know who we are. I doubt they'd try it if they weren't working for that bastard Woods."

Lacertus' growl was more than feral, and his eyes waned yellow again, only for a moment, as they pulled onto the highway. The two SUVs were right on their tail – even the one with a punctured tire – but Exuro pushed the sports car on faster, hoping the thing wouldn't pack out on him when he needed its speed. "Come on, baby," he told it quietly, insistently. It roared, almost in response, and practically launched forward with the application of pressure on the gas, and one of the SUVs nearly lost control as it tried to overtake a pickup.

"Care to get rid of the straggler?" Exuro offered Lacertus, who nodded, and using one arm, hoisted himself over his own backrest, into the back seat. He pulled out his gun from his belt again, and levelled the barrel, aiming right at the head of the lone driver. After a few moments of adjusting with the movement of the vehicles, he squeezed the trigger. A sharp bang followed, and then a screech of skidding tires, before the pickup had to swerve to avoid the careening SUV, which subsequently flipped against the partition and landed roughly and messily on the other side of the highway, amidst a few passing cars.

Lacertus hopped back into the front seat, slotting the pistol away. "Got a plan for the last one?"

"Sure do. As soon as I move–"

"Take the wheel? Gotcha."

"Good boy," Exuro offered playfully, and readied himself, pressing the gas pedal flat to the floor. He needed distance for this… and plenty of it. A miscalculation would either cost him his life or something he would definitely miss. He overtook a lonely car on the highway, which soon decided that stopping and pulling over altogether might be smart given the commotion behind it, even as the SUV came tearing up in the background, firing wildly at them, bullets flying everywhere, and a few even ripping into the vehicle they were chasing.

_ Here goes nothin'_, Exuro told himself, and pulled in a deep breath. He knew he would not have to say anything to his fellow lycanthrope, even as he arched himself in his seat, snapping new magazine clips into the bottoms of his weapons, before launching himself off the back of the car. He landed in a roll on the highway, and pointed the barrels forward, letting off eight shots alternatively from each gun, before the hood of the SUV just got too close.

_ Okay, **really **not good! _Exuro's mind snapped into focus, and he quickly pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself and jumping forward and up, onto the bonnet, and slamming against the windshield. It cracked horribly with the werewolf's impact, and Exuro gave a yell, both of pain and fury, as he was thrown upward into the air, off the windshield. Through the pain, he forced himself to turn, else he land on something that would suffer from crashing into the concrete, and as he did so, he focused on what he would have to do now.

As he turned in the air, everything seemed to slow, his duster tearing around him with the wind and the force of the rapid movement… before everything was thrown back into real time, and his feet hit the ground, one knee slightly unbalanced. He compensated automatically, subconsciously, and clicked out the empty magazines from his guns, reloading instantly with clips attached to his leather belt. The SUV wasn't too far from him, and was even about to turn, the driver pulling on the wheel to try and take down the lone lycanthrope.

"Just try it, asshole," Exuro grumbled, blood running down the right side of his face from an already healing gash across the forehead near his hairline, as he snapped the guns out in front of him in the blink of an eye, scowling at the two men in the SUV before savagely pulling on the triggers in turn. Rapid fire burst out of the business ends, and rocketed with painful force into the SUV's body, ripping holes the size of golf balls in the shell, before a few of the projectiles hit something important, and there was a crack… and a dull boom.

The SUV was still for a moment, before with a blinding flash of bright flame; it was shot upwards with the force of the rupturing explosion from inside the hood of the large vehicle. The men inside were no doubt killed instantly, and Exuro lowered the pistols, even as a secondary chain explosion sent a tire off separately to the side, landing some twenty feet behind the thoroughly angered werewolf. He was hurt, he was pissed, and he was not in the mood for anything other than a stiff drink and smashing something apart. Though the explosion was rather relaxing to him all of a sudden.

Giving a half-hearted snarl as the messy and charred shell of the destroyed SUV came back down to land, Exuro painfully put his Colts away in his body holster, groaning loudly as he did so, even as the somewhat wrecked sports car came back in his direction. He refused to fall to one knee, and limped towards Lacertus, who stood up in his seat.

"You all right, Ex'?"

"I'm just peachy," Exuro grumbled, trying to force the limp from the weakened knee to recede, knowing with a sense of mild relief that it would be gone in a little over a day. He touched a hand to the side of his head, seeing the coating of blood that came with it, and sighing loudly. He glanced with contempt at the burning SUV shell, and narrowed his eyes, rolling one rather battered shoulder back, hearing a crack. Dislocated… well, not anymore. He snarled, and climbed back into the car, on the passenger side. He sat heavily in the seat, and snapped at Lacertus, "Let's get back."


	6. Fury

**Author's Note:** Well, I hope you are all coming down from that action-high we had last chapter, cuz this one is a little more pensive, unfortunately, heh. Updates for this story _might_ slow down, also, cuz I'm starting to run out of pre-written stuff… eeep.

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** Glad you liked the chase. I'd never written one before. Illyria and Ezekiel are, indeed, very much a couple.

**Marcus Lazarus:** It's true – the F.T.S is equal vampires and werewolves, heh. Yay! Thanks, regarding the car chase. You have no idea how relieved I am O.O And that topic will come up… soon XD

**Drakena:** I guess I'm safe from your OC bashing then, aren't I? XD

**LotRseer3350:** Thanks muchly.

**funyun** I'm flattered by your kind words; really, I am. They mean a lot to me. Hope you enjoyed the wedding.

**Sethoz: **Thanks, 'Thoz! And you have **_no_** reason to be jealous o.O Hear me? Heh, about Exuro… _I can't help it_ XD Heh, one of my favourite Sawyer quotes there. Bwahah.

**BloodMoonLycan:** Heh, thanks, buddy. Very glad you liked. And your world isn't sad! XD

Now for Part Six of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

* * *

Strand opened the doors after being admitted entry, wary and cautious, glancing around at the expensive furnishings and decoration of the room, from the paintings by famous American artists, to the shelves of literature by some of the greatest writers in history. Volumes new and old adorned the room, and Strand looked nervous, eyes peering about somewhat quickly.

This, of course, made Samuel rather suspicious. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was coming. "What is it, Strand?" He kept his eyes on the papers he was perusing, orders he had to sign for a go-ahead on some new weaponry or some such. He always found it hard to read this junk when the beginnings of a headache were sneaking up on him.

Strand muttered for a moment, ran his hands through his hair, and said, "A failure, sir."

Samuel Woods' dark eyes left his paperwork at once, and Strand even cowered beneath them as they were turned upon him. He knew what was coming, and Samuel did not disappoint, "How the hell did we fail, Strand?"

"They were all destroyed, sir… all three vehicles."

"_How_?"

"They… two of the Quattuor were being pursued; sir, but we made a mistake."

"And what _mistake_ would that be?" His patience was running thin, and fast.

"… The alpha male was in the car."

"Exuro was in the car?" Samuel saw the nod. "Who was the other?"

"Lacertus, sir, the old omega."

Samuel did not move or react for a long time, simply staring at the man, before he shoved all the papers aside, and cursed very loudly, removing his glasses briskly and roughly, tearing them from his face practically, and throwing them down, regardless of their frailty. He could afford more. His intense gaze bore into Strand intensely, and he growled, "I want them _destroyed_!"

"Y-yes, sir, we know… but it's proving more and more difficult. Not one of our men survived the ambush sir… though there was blood at the scene that we tested, and discovered to be lycanthropic."

Samuel froze at that, eyeing Strand, as he asked, "Werewolf blood?" A nod. "One was hurt?" Another nod. "Do we know who?"

"From the samples on record, sir… we believe it to be Exuro."

Samuel smiled, and laughed. "Cocky son of a bitch… bet he didn't like that."

Strand smiled wanly, almost forced, before saying, "He will heal though, sir… and quite quickly, we know."

"I know, I know… but at least now you people know he _can_ be hurt, and maybe that will help you to think of _something_ that will_ work_!"

Strand cowered again, as he stepped hesitantly closer, reaching into his pants pocket, and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. "Actually, sir… I think we do have something that could work… there's a very high probability."

"I'm waiting," Samuel grumbled, sitting back in his tall leather chair and reclining slightly, knotting his hands in front of his face as he listened.

"A long time ago, your grandfather… great-grandfather, had to contend with companions of Exuro's alter ego, who tried to get him back. Only three of them are still alive… four are dead."

"Yes, I know that. One was killed by Exuro himself."

"Right," Strand agreed, and lay the paper down carefully on the edge of the polished desk. "But the remaining three have been following, tracking and performing surveillance in regards to the Quattuor for years now… near on one hundred and five, actually, sir… they've had contact and conflict with them… and I think they can help."

"Is that right? How do we know these creatures can be trusted? If I'm thinking on the right track here, the 'people' you speak of are vampires and werewolves… the very kinds of creature that I am trying to _stop_."

Strand nodded. "That's right, sir… but we're running out of viable options, and I think these three can do it…"

Samuel sensed the hesitation, and his eyes floated up to meet Strand's. "There's something else…"

Strand nodded slowly, saying, "One of them is Exuro's old lover, sir."

Samuel sighed, slipping into consideration, staring down at the piece of paper for a long time. The three names were written there, and a contact number. Why hadn't this been considered before? He couldn't help but wonder… but Strand had a point. They were just about out of useable options, and time was running out. Something was on the cards, he knew… he could _feel_ it, and whatever it was, needed to be stopped… and it probably involved the blasted Quattuor.

Samuel's eyes lifted into Strand's once again.

"Call them."

* * *

Light guitar riffs and chords played through the surround speakers as she sat, knees drawn up flexibly onto the couch under her… not so much a couch as the same armchair she had found comfort in on the lap of another not so long ago. Her keen blue eyes found the wall clock, and she sighed impatiently, undertoned with concern.

She refrained from showing her real concern, far from alone in the room. Cigarette smoke curled up from the tip of Gladius' lit butt, and she watched it for a moment, before grumbling, "Do you _mind_? I'm _eating_…"

Gladius' dark eyes looked to her, and he sighed loudly, before he leaned forward, and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray, glancing back to his lupa – a respectful title for an alpha female – briefly, leaning into the couch once again.

_Jerk_, she thought, and muttered, "Thank you," out of forced consideration, digging her spoon back into the tub. She read the ingredients as she scooped, and then lifted out her spoonful, eating the 'Cookie Dough' ice cream, probably out of sheer boredom. But then again, Falx knew she had always been rather fond of ice cream… especially 'Ben & Jerry's'… there was always a stock in the freezer. She made _sure_ of that. Digging around again, she glanced once more to the clock.

They were late.

Exuro and Lacertus were _never_ late.

A chill ran up her exposed arms for a moment, a sensation that was completely unrelated to the ice cream she knew, and she swallowed her mouthful slowly as something like an instinct filled her. Her blue eyes lifted from the tub, and she leaned forward slowly, placing it – along with the buried spoon – back onto the table. Gladius eyed her curiously, furrowing his brow, even as she twisted in her seat, hearing something now. Her heart constricted, even as the scent hit her, moments before the door was kicked open.

"Oh god," she gasped, and leapt from her chair as Lacertus came through the door, Exuro supported against him, limping on one leg. She was at his side at once, and she touched a hand to his bloodied face, feeling the dampness of it, despite the fact that the cut was healed already, so confirmed when she stroked some hair from his sticky brow, seeing nothing. "Shit… what _happened_?" She practically growled at Lacertus, though she knew it probably wasn't his fault.

"Woods…"

Falx snarled loudly, the sound bubbling up her throat and out, even as she tried to see where else her lover was wounded. "Exuro, look at me… _look_ at me, baby, please."

The green eyes met hers, and she stared into them for a moment, before saying, "Gladius, get your ass off the couch, and help."

Obviously begrudgingly, the omega came to their aid, and took Lacertus' place, with the alpha male's arm over his shoulder, and he and Falx moved Exuro to the couch. He was probably just groggy and still a little wounded, but he had obviously taken a huge blow, and an instinctual fear and need to protect her mate had overtaken the alpha female. She shooed Gladius away afterwards, even as Exuro sat upright, refusing to lie down.

"Exuro… talk to me; c'mon… tell me you're all right."

"I'm all right," he grumbled quietly, closing his eyes and setting his jaw as he rocked his head back a little. "I'm all right."

Claiming his jaw in her hand gently, she kissed him, feeling her worry flow out of her through that contact, just glad to have him back in her arms. She never normally showed so much emotion, other than malice and mischief, obviously… but now, with the threat to Exuro's life, she couldn't help but let it to the surface. She broke from her reassuring kiss, stroking her hand back carefully through Exuro's blonde hair, and looked to Lacertus pointedly, seeing his concern for his leader, asking sternly, "Tell me _exactly_ what happened."

"We were heading back from the hit," Lacertus responded. "Guy hadn't even seen us coming, and it was over before we knew it. We planned to come straight back, but on the way, three SUVs chased us. We knocked two of 'em out before anything really happened, on the highway. Exuro jumped out… but…"

Falx waited… impatient. She glared, before her lover's voice broke the silence, "I got hit."

The blue met the green at once, and she angled her face down to meet his gaze directly, asking, "What do you mean you 'got hit'?"

"By the fucking SUV," Exuro growled. "I got hit… I didn't move in time, and the bastard slammed me. I'm fine."

"How badly were you hurt?"

He refused, stubbornly – and proudly no doubt – to answer.

"How badly was he hurt?" she asked of Lacertus instead, hearing Exuro's exaggerated sigh. Gladius was watching intently.

"I'm… not sure. Cut to the head… a limp in the knee. I couldn't really see much else… and I didn't ask."

_Because you know what's good for you_, Falx thought subconsciously, and looked back to Exuro. "Would you just tell me where you were hurt, for Christ's sake, and stop being so stubborn?"

There was a long moment, before he replied, "I dislocated a shoulder, I think I smashed the knee, the cut is gone, and I got winded pretty bad. Ribs maybe… I'm _healing_, Falx."

"I know you're healing, but that doesn't mean I can't care or worry, so shut up and sit still." Falx stood, looking to Lacertus and Gladius. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll tear out Woods' heart, and…"

Gladius and Lacertus were silent for a long while, before the former said, "So you think the whole thing was a set up?"

Falx hadn't even really considered the implications until the omega had spoken, and she glanced back down at Exuro. "He could be right. The hit… you said it had been over quickly. Too quickly?"

"Five minutes once the guy was out of the bar, maybe less," Lacertus confirmed.

"Son of a bitch is desperate," Exuro exhaled, closing his eyes to rest for a moment, leaning back against the chair. "Trying to beat us in our game."

Falx growled again. "He should just keep his goddamn nose out. He needs to learn his lesson already. You think he would have after what's happened in the past."

Gladius shrugged. "Like you said… he's desperate."

* * *

Anise walked somewhat hesitantly down the immaculate hallways with her two companions, their new allies left back at their 'headquarters', in secret. Apparently, this new generation of Woods didn't know about them, and they wanted it kept that way… at least for now.

Anise Delacroix felt the burning hatred for anything Woods… it had been Sebastian Woods who had made her watch in pain as Tom Sawyer had been taken from her, replaced by the murderous and cruel Exuro. He had stolen the man she had loved from her, and she took some small comfort in knowing he was dead… though she wished she were responsible.

Mina and Dmitri shadowed her in front and behind, with the Russian walking, intimidating, at the rear. She took comfort in his presence, knowing he would do anything in his power to protect the two women… not that they were anything but capable on their own. It was just in Dmitri's gentle nature to be protective, she knew.

They were flanked – at a distance she noticed – by two men, wearing tidy suits, with earpieces connected to their collars. She cast a glance over their shoulder at them, even as Mina thrust open some doors in front of her at the end of the corridor, striding confidently into – what appeared to be – a conference room, filled with men in jackets and ties, expensive clothing, and immaculate taste… government officials, she guessed. At the head of the table was the man she recognised from newspapers and TV reports to be Samuel Woods… the great-grandson to the bastard Sebastian.

"I see you've made yourself at home, Miss Harker," Woods said blandly, glancing half heartedly to his companions around the table, middle aged men with nothing but politics in their lives.

"_Mrs._ Harker," Mina corrected bluntly, and strode up to stand some five feet from him. "You wouldn't explain over the phone… what is this all about, _Woods_?"

"Oh, such venom," Woods sighed, and stood. "Very well. Shall we discuss this in private?"

"In front of your colleagues is just fine, Woods," Mina responded in correction. "Surely whatever you have to say to myself and my associates can be shared with these… 'fine' men." She eyed them all with contempt, and one or two shied under her intense, cool gaze.

Woods glared. "Fine," he practically hissed after a moment, and seated himself again. "Would you care to seat yourselves?"

"We'd rather stand and get this over with. Whatever you have to say can surely not interest us…" Mina was making a point of being rude, and Anise backed her firmly, standing behind her – along with Dmitri – almost like a shadow. The Russian was silent, as per normal, and the two werewolves settled for listening, letting the vampire do the talking as was tradition, almost.

Quite suddenly, Woods said, "We've lost control…"

Mina's voice was laced with exaggerated sarcasm, which practically dripped from her every word as she replied, "How shocking…"

Woods' eyes narrowed for a moment, and he glanced down the table at his silent colleagues, before glancing back to Mina and her two companions saying, "I need you to lead a team–"

"No need for that," Mina interrupted, cocking her head in a distrusting manner. "Perhaps we can help each other." She raised an eyebrow. "How does that sit with you, Mr. Woods?"

Anise eyed the men at the table curiously and cautiously, very wary of being in this large, government building… she felt confined. She had felt wary around them ever since she and Dmitri had been used effectively as bait for Tom… she quickly forced her mind back into focus.

"What exactly is it you are proposing, Mrs. Harker?"

"Well," Mina began confidently, "as you are aware, we have our own intentions when pursuing your… _Quattuor_, as they call themselves. We, unlike you, do not wish to destroy them… at least not all of them."

"Ah yes," Woods sighed. "Exuro."

"Don't call him that," Anise said suddenly, and cursed her retaliation, falling silent once again… at least for a moment. "He once served your government… as a human. You've turned your back on him, you coward… you and the rest of your country."

There was something in Woods' eyes that made her think he was going to retort in a fiery manner, but instead, he simply corrected, "Very well… Tom Sawyer, then. What about him? Surely you do not wish to _save_ him after what he's done. You perhaps know better than I do all the people he's killed."

Mina ignored this, pointedly, and moved right along. "You wish to have them stopped… we wish to recover Sawyer. By any means necessary. Surely we do not have to work against one another in reaching these goals. We can help you… and I have a sneaking suspicion… that _you_ can help _us_…" She narrowed her eyes. "Would I be correct in that assumption?"

_What is she talking about_? Anise couldn't help but think, eyeing her companion inquisitively, as did Dmitri by her side. The Russian lycanthrope cocked his head a little, but the two tried not to show their intrigue. Did Mina know something they did not?

Woods seemed reluctant, before he looked to his fellows, down at himself, and then sighed. "Yes… yes, you would be correct."

Anise glanced to Dmitri, who looked back down at her, equally as curious. Had Mina just been guessing, or had she actually known something of what Woods spoke?

"We've been working on a way to… reverse the process, for some time now, and only now have we developed something we believe to be… sufficient. But of course, with no way to test it, we can't be sure," Woods was saying, and the companions at the table looked just as intrigued as Anise and Dmitri. If Mina was curious or astounded, she didn't show it. "We believe, though, that it would be powerful enough to reverse what my ancestor did to them… destroy the soldier alter egos, and return them to who they once were. In your case… Exuro would once again become Tom Sawyer."

Anise couldn't stop her heart from beating so much faster than was normal, and she felt the infuriating tears burn in her eyes again. She blinked them back, luckily, and listened anew.

"… In return for your cooperation," Woods began, somewhat hesitantly, "… I would be willing to _give_ you the drug, so you could get Sawyer back." He sighed heavily, and hung his head a little, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, as though weary or ashamed of his defeat.

Mina uncrossed her arms from her chest, and strode up to Woods' chair calmly, extending a hand. "We have a deal, Mr. Woods… the collapse of the Quattuor, for the reversal drug."

Woods looked up, and to Mina's hand, before he stood, almost reluctantly, and shook her hand in agreement, sighing noticeably. Mina smiled just subtly, and turned her head back to Anise and Dmitri, even as Woods said, "I can have men and supplies–"

"Oh that won't be necessary, Mr. Woods… we have some people to help us already. And I'd be most appreciative if you could keep from breathing down our necks. If necessary… _we_ will contact _you_… is that acceptable?"

Woods looked about ready to explode with disagreement, but instead, bit down his anger at being ordered around, and said, "Very well. I will arrange to have the drug supplied to you. 'Happy hunting'…"

With that, Mina, Anise and Dmitri left the room, heading back for the doors where they had entered, only too happy to be out of the building, and away from the men responsible for all of this.

_A cure… _Anise's mind was in overdrive, swarming with confusion. _There's a cure…_

* * *

Gladius couldn't really comprehend what had happened, but that didn't mean he wasn't intrigued. It had been _so_ close… from the sounds of it, Exuro – and perhaps even Lacertus too – had nearly been killed. That would have meant Gladius would have had a good chance at reclaiming his old position.

He looked down to Exuro on the couch, who sat with his head forward again, his lover pestering him to check he was all right. Before he could stop himself, he sighed loudly. Lacertus narrowed his eyes from beside him, pulling off his black jacket, and tossing it aside, onto the back of the armchair, as he asked, "What's _your_ problem? You weren't the one who nearly got pumped full of holes."

Gladius looked to the younger werewolf, and growled quietly. "No… I wasn't."

Lacertus cocked his head, brow furrowed.

"I'm starting to wonder what New York looks like when I don't see it out the window, actually," Gladius said almost casually.

Exuro looked up from the couch. "What the hell are you trying to say, Gladius?"

"I know you don't trust me, and frankly, I don't give a shit, but I'm _good_ at my job…"

"You enjoy it too much," Lacertus grumbled irritably, and moved away, to stand behind the couch where Exuro sat.

"Well excuse _me_ for taking a little pleasure in what I do…" Gladius rolled his eyes.

"The reason I never _take_ you anywhere is because I don't trust you… as you said," Exuro began, and it was with a certain degree of venom that he did so.

_Here we go again… brat._

"In fact, I'm starting to wonder why I keep you around…" Exuro stood, despite Falx telling him to sit down. She moved back, sighing loudly and irritably as she did so, and stood behind her obviously angered mate. Gladius just watched… waited. "Actually… I wouldn't be surprised if you had something to do with what happened tonight. It's no secret you're pissed I stole your title… or _won_ it, I should say."

Gladius growled, loudly, and he felt his eyes wane. "You arrogant…"

"Finish that sentence, Gladius… I _dare_ you…" Exuro's growl resonated and rumbled loudly, and silver flashed. He practically bristled with energy, and preparation.

Gladius wasn't so sure of his chances in another fight with Exuro, but for the sake of his pride, he was willing to try. He genuinely had had nothing to do with what had happened to Exuro and Lacertus… and the mention of the loss of alpha also riled him, as Exuro well knew. Antagonising little…

Gladius growled. "You think I had something to do with this?"

Exuro simply cocked his head.

"You're wrong… as shocking as that might _seem_ to you, 'alpha'," he spoke the title mockingly, and he continued in a growl, "… you are quite _often_ wrong… about a great _many_ things." Though he wasn't sure why, his lupine eyes glanced to Falx, who narrowed her own.

Exuro snapped out a snarl, and shoved Gladius back. That was it… his patience had worn out, his tether snapped. With a short bellowed growl, Gladius let his fangs extend, the hair bristling all over his form. Exuro mimicked, his eyes a liquid metallic silver, his hair bleeding black at the roots and seeping through his blonde locks. Fangs pushed through his gums as well, and he would soon start to grow. Gladius was well aware of the fact that Exuro towered over him in lupine form, and far outshone him for prowess and muscle, but he was willing to try. After all, he _was_ wounded.

But before they could go any further, a roar of "Stop it!" broke apart their potential conflict, and the beautiful form of a furious Falx thrust between them. Her eyes were two dark pools of black, and she growled dangerously, snarling, "Step _away_, omega…"

He _despised_ that name she gave him… even though it was his title. But it was so degrading, and made him want to tear her throat out. With a quiet growl of reluctance, he did so, seeing Falx place a hand on her lover's chest without meeting his silver gaze. She was too busy watching Gladius to ensure he kept his distance.

"Keep yourself together, dammit," she warned, and then looked to Exuro, even as the silver melted into green slowly. "Come on…" Stroking a hand down his partially exposed chest, she led Exuro from the room. Gladius watched them angrily, his face twisted into a sneer, and he looked momentarily to a somewhat triumphant Lacertus, before storming from the room.

* * *

"How are things coming along?"

His voice echoed through the cavernous warehouse chamber, and striding up beside him was Donovan Masters confidently, a pistol at his side, as he responded, "Things are coming along as planned… smoothly and quickly. We should be up and running in a few hours if we keep up the pace."

"Excellent." Robert Larson smiled, his keen, cunning eyes peering over the balcony upper level of the large room, near to an office he had claimed – understandably so – as his own. His hands gripped the railing gently, and he cast his eyes out over the operation floor as it was being set up. Scientists in lab coats, and soldiers in fatigues with firearms bustled everywhere, arranging equipment, such as laptop computers, paperwork, vials, test tubes, and containers. His eyes rested on the large, metal containers for a moment, and he looked sidelong to Masters. "Are they sufficient?" He nodded to the huge crate-like boxes.

Masters considered them pensively with brown eyes, furrowing his brow for a moment, before he crossed his arms over his muscular chest, and nodded. "I'm confident they're adequate, sir, if that's what you mean. If you want my honest opinion… a raging rhino would hardly make a dent in those things." He smiled somewhat slyly, and laughed quietly.

Larson nodded slowly, and looked down at the scientific equipment being set up. "Make sure everything's in order, and then come to me. We need to get things in motion as soon as possible. According to sources, everything's in place… we have to act whilst the time is right."

"Absolutely, sir," Masters agreed, nodded curtly in acknowledgement, and then walked away with large, confident and intent strides, jogging down the steps to the floor below, and overseeing operations, barking out orders where necessary.

Larson watched, running things over in his mind, looking down at the vials, beakers, diagrams, charts, and setting his gaze on the two containers.

_They'll hold_, he told himself. _If Masters says they'll hold… they'll hold_.

Sighing, he leaned against the railing to watch.

* * *

Exuro winced slightly when Falx wasn't looking, hearing her close the door firmly but quietly behind them. He was still bubbling with rage at Gladius' nerve, and he growled quietly despite his attempts not to. Falx came up behind him, ran a hand around his back, and to his waist. She kissed the back and side of his neck.

"Let me help you," she whispered in his ear, and he tilted his head sideways at the sound of her voice, sighing in a more relaxed manner.

"I'm fine," he countered quietly, stubbornly. He heard and felt her move away, and into the bathroom adjacent to their bedroom. She turned on the water, and Exuro simply stood in the centre of the room, closing his eyes to think over what had happened. It was chaotic in his mind, and even as he stood there, his mind flashed blindingly, and he winced again, recalling his past… no, not _his_ past…

_"Don't worry… I've had my fill of **throats** for this evening…"_

With a brisk shake of the head, he opened his eyes, mildly concerned. They were getting worse, he knew, but he would be damned before he told anyone about them. Falx emerged from the bathroom at that point, a cloth and bowl in her hands, and she set them down on the small table near to where he stood, coming to stand in front of him, repeating with discreet seduction, "Let me help you…"

And so it was, that when she reached up to remove his jacket, he didn't fight her. He let it fall from his shoulders, to the floor, even as she unbuttoned his shirt for him. He watched her, silently, breathing in her scent subtly, intoxicated by it as always. She pushed his shirt back slowly, taking care with his still-sore shoulder, and eased it down his arms for him, brushing the skin on the way down, making the hairs rise slowly as she did so. Her blue eyes rose into his own gaze, and then she angled her attention to the side of his face, taking his jaw gently in her left hand, and turning it to see where the wound _had_ been. She reached over and moistened the towel, bringing it back to wipe the blood from his face for him, slowly but steadily. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she did so, breathing rhythmically, but feeling his heart and body cry out for her, despite her already intimate and immediate proximity.

The cloth came away from his face, and Falx's blue eyes took a few seconds to meet his again. No words were exchanged… they didn't need them anymore. In their hundred years together, they had learned the fine art of reading one another's body language and expressions exactly… words were just a convenience. She dropped the cloth, and kissed him softly, gently almost. It wasn't often that she did so, but he didn't object, closing his eyes, tasting her, and almost smiling. The subtle flavour of chocolate greeted him pleasantly, and he felt her hand run down from his neck, down his chest, and over his waist. As their lips parted, just a fraction, her hands had rested on his leather belt. He had only just registered the dropping of his holsters from his shirt as well, and wondered why he hadn't heard them. Casting it aside, he heard her say for the third time, whispered, "Let me help you…"

His eyes closed slowly, confirming, and he felt her fingers unbuckle his belt, pulling it free slowly, almost teasingly, before unfastening his pants for him. His breathing quickened, his heart stepping up a beat in pacing, and he yearned for her… the teaser of her taste – even after the obvious ice cream she had consumed, something that made her so much more appetising all of a sudden – making his control teeter at the verge of breaking. They were so close to one another; he could feel her, smell her… even as she freed him of his pants. He'd pulled off his boots, barely moving, as she had worked on the belt, and his hands rose up her hips, even as his breathing audibly quickened.

He claimed her mouth in a kiss, and as his hands reached the bottom of her short top, they ran under, lifting it up and away. She lifted her arms, allowing him to pull it free, and it fell to the floor quietly, as his hands ran through her fiery, silken mane of hair. One of her hands teased at the side of his neck as they kissed passionately and hungrily, and he barely even registered his strategic moving her backwards, as her other hand ran down his torso again, toying at the line of his boxers.

His hands ran down her body, to her leather pants, and he subconsciously worked them free, before she lowered herself down to the bed behind her, as large as it was, and he loomed over her, breaking from the kiss, and eyeing her for a moment, before she offered him an almost pleading expression, asking breathlessly, "Are you okay to…"

He smiled in response, and lowered his head to her again, kissing her neck instead, softly but lingeringly, and heard her light groan as her hands ran over his bare torso and back. He shivered only slightly at her touch, still exhilarated even after almost a century as her lover.

Looking down at her again for a moment, his blonde hair hanging around his face, looming just inches over her, supported mostly by the arm that had not been dislocated at the shoulder, and the knee that hadn't been damaged, he studied her for a few, lingering seconds. She really was beautiful, and in so much more than the physical sense. Her fire, her strength, her passion…

Panting now, and feeling her breath through his bangs, he lowered to her, feeling her hands run around his neck and the back of his head as they kissed deeply again, growing in intensity, even as she groaned into him, and arched her back slightly against him.

As the early hours of the morning melted away, Exuro fought for focus in his mind… caught between his reality with Falx, and the haunting visions of the old, infuriating past as the human Tom Sawyer.

_What is wrong with me…?_


	7. A World Full of Killing

**Author's Note:** Wow, that last chapter was **_long_**, huh? _::eyes bulge::_ Um… sorry? Wait, people are supposed to like long chapters, so I'm going to retract that apology, and grin instead _grins::_ Hope it was to your liking… as with this one. It's not too short either XD Whoo.

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** I am trying to develop the Quattuor more; give them more layers. I don't want them to be 2D characters, so I'm glad you like Falx's continuing development, as slight as it might be.

**funyun** You'll have to wait and see regarding the Tom/Falx/Anise thing. Still in the works; the end is a ways off yet XD Thanks, regarding Mina. It's harder to keep her in character in present settings. Yay! You like Lacertus! Then again, the only one of my Quattuor creations I snarl at myself is Gladius… I'm too fond O.o Bad me. But I'm glad you like him for the reason you stated.

**Marcus Lazarus:** Heh. You couldn't be more right about Exuro and the Tom situation. And as to that fourth party… you've already seen them ;)

**queerquail**Glad you like! Thanks!

**Ceru S:** Thanks for the comment about the twists. I do try to ram them in there, without overly-complicating things. Heh. It's good that I can surprise you as well… surprised myself with that inner development regarding Exuro. I hadn't planned it, and then it just came out… I shouldn't confess stuff like that XD And that will develop. Thanks very much for your kind words, and here's the new chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

**Drakena:** Thanks very much, and here's the update. (Loved the art)

**Silversnow:** Whee! Fights indeed. And no you're not; don't worry. They're all creations of my own mind, mwahahaha! XD

Thanks to everyone, and here's the new part of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

**CHAPTER SEVEN: ****A WORLD FULL OF KILLING**

He had slept for less than five hours, and steam poured up from the hot water that flowed in the shower as he simply stood beneath its flow, eyes closed, the aches in his muscles slowly seeping away and leaving his body. Water dripped from his hair as it dangled down his face, his head bowed, chin almost touching to his chest as he tried to sort through his chaotic mind.

_"Not so secret now…"_

His head jerked with the unwanted memory, and he hissed almost, gritting his teeth, even as he was assaulted again, his palm pressing firmly against the tiles in front of him as it flashed.

_"I don't want you to go… I never want to be near those things… they're dangerous…" Her face, smiling at him… tears… her brown eyes shining. "I don't want to see you hurt…"_

He panted with the attack on his mind, and leaned his forehead against the cool wall, trying to force them away.

_Running… lightning… pain… gunfire. "Exuro…" An injection… "You and your bitch…" A gunshot… "Sawyer… Tom…"_

_"Agent Tom Sawyer…"_

He threw himself away from the wall, but stopped himself before he fell back through the cubicle, panting, his eyes flying open, panicked and afraid of the memories and images assailing him. He slammed off the shower, and quickly exited the cubicle, grabbing a towel and robe, and throwing them on quickly. He was out of the bathroom before he knew what he was doing…

… And almost walked right into Falx. Why was she standing so close to the bathroom?

"Exuro…?"

He looked into her blue eyes, trying to hide his emotions from his own gaze… the shock at what had just happened to him. It was getting so much worse… he couldn't stop them as much as he had been able to before, in the past.

"Are you all right?" Her hand ran up to stroke down his damp face.

Answer… he had to answer her. If not, her concerns would double, and he didn't need that added tension right now. "I'm fine."

"I _know_ you…" she whispered, and brought her lips to his in a brief, but passionate kiss. "Tell me what's wrong…"

He knew she wasn't in the habit of saying please, but had she been, she would have said it then… and she would have been pleading. She was worried about him.

"Falx," he began rather tenderly, and returned her affectionate stroke of the cheek, as his hair dripped down his face, "I'm all right… I'll be fine. It's just a headache."

Falx and Exuro stood face to face for a long time, looking into each other's eyes, before she snaked her arms around his neck, despite it being drenched with water, like the rest of his body, and kissed him again, almost longingly. After that, she eased herself away, and left him in the room, so he could dress.

As soon as she was gone, he closed his eyes, and drew in a long breath, sitting heavily on the bed, and running his hands through his hair.

_"Agent Tom Sawyer…"_

* * *

"So tell me what you know."

Dmitri turned his head from the long table as Ezekiel spoke the words, and regarded the three new arrivals with interest, curiosity, and caution. He did not know them… it seemed that Mina Harker knew the male vampire, but not these other two who had accompanied him. One seemed to be his lover, a vampire female named Illyria, a woman of very few words, but with such expressive eyes. The other, a werewolf named Zariel. He had expressed briefly and somewhat quietly that they address him so, and ignore his given name of John.

Anise stood beside him as he sipped his coffee, only drinking the beverage to give him something to do as Mina stood near the window, pensively staring out of it. The two vampires stood close, but with the sword-wielding male pacing a little. Zariel stood on the other side of the table, glancing curiously over at the two fellow lycanthropes.

Dmitri supposed, after travelling with two vampires for who knew how long, it would get rather lonesome, with werewolves instinctively being pack creatures. They needed company of their own kind… not that of vampires, as much as Dmitri liked Mina Harker, she would never replace Lei Cheung in his heart and mind as a third member of their little pack.

"We know who they are, what they do, and for the most part, how they do it," Mina responded.

Dmitri could almost taste the tension between Mina and Ezekiel, but he couldn't place what it was or had been between them in the past. Whatever it was, Dmitri had the feeling it hadn't been a pleasant end.

"You've gotta give me more than that, Mina… I can't figure out much from a few notes and some photos, can I?" Ezekiel was pacing up beside Zariel now, and the werewolf regarded the vampire with respect and a warmth becoming a good friend. "Tell me what you _know_."

Mina turned from the window, regarded Illyria for a moment, and then walked over to the table. Dmitri – and no doubt Anise – saw her roll her eyes, as she came up beside them, bringing out a file from the collection spread over the table. She removed its contents, four clipped documents, and set them down in a line in front of Ezekiel. Illyria moved over and stood on the other side of her lover.

"Gladius – omega male of the pack. He's strong, ruthless… and insane."

"His lupine form?" Ezekiel asked, eyeing the file, and studying the photo. Mina reached over and opened the document, removing an image of a beast from within.

"Quadruped," she revealed. "Three and a half to four feet in height, mostly incapable of upright movement. One of the smaller two of the four."

Ezekiel nodded, prompting continuation.

"Lacertus – old omega, moved up in the line in the last seventy years. Confident, cunning and… rather mischievous. One of the youngest of the four. Werewolf form is quadruped for the most part, but he can walk upright in slow movements. Similar to Gladius, but faster, and less coat. Shorter on four legs, at about three feet."

Ezekiel nodded, studying the photos of the human and lupine forms very carefully, passing them to Illyria and Zariel in turn.

"Falx…" Mina paused, and breathed in deeply. "Alpha female. Vicious, determined and very dangerous. Her werewolf form is tall, about seven feet, give or take an inch or two. Very canine in the head, with prominent talons, and a mane of hair around the head. From what we've seen, strictly bipedal; incapable of quadruped. Watch out for her. She's lethal, especially if the safety of her _mate_ is threatened…"

Ezekiel looked up from the comparison photos for the forms of Falx, and his blue eyes narrowed. "And her mate?"

Dmitri saw the trouble Mina had – as well as Anise, even simply watching – in bringing up the final member. But it was with determination that she did so, standing up straight, setting her shoulders.

"Exuro," Mina began, offering the file photo to Ezekiel and his two companions. "The last of the Quattuor to be turned, but now the alpha male. He challenged the old alpha, Gladius, and nearly tore out his eye in the combat, winning his position, and Falx in doing so. He was… once a very close friend of mine… of ours, by the name of Thomas Sawyer, a detective for the American Secret Service. He was turned in a struggle over a century ago, and in a conspiracy amongst the government of this country, he was brainwashed, along with the other three, and became Exuro. We failed to get him back… and he… killed one of our own."

Ezekiel nodded slowly, listening intently, and Dmitri thought he saw compassion in the cool eyes.

"His werewolf form… is like nothing we've ever seen. Black haired, at _least_ eight feet tall, silver eyes, insanely powerful, with a mind for the kill. He's built for power, but with both bipedal _and_ quadruped travel at his capability, he can use speed to his advantage as well. He's determined as well, extremely protective of his pack, intelligent and has a mind for strategy."

"Silver eyes?" Zariel asked, his voice rather smooth, American, but almost lilted somewhat gently.

Mina nodded.

Zariel cocked his head as if this was strange to him, and Anise and Dmitri exchanged gazes. As he lay down the files, Ezekiel commented, "Well there's something you don't see every day."

"Why are you acting as though it's an oddity?"

"It pretty much is," Ezekiel told Anise, looking at her pointedly as he spread out the files to consider them more fully. "At least in our experience. You get your reds, your black, green, orange, yellow, brown… silver… we've never seen that one before."

"It's not important," Mina stated impatiently. "It doesn't make him any different to other werewolves, does it? He's not any more powerful for it, is he?"

After a moment, Ezekiel shook his head of spiked hair, narrowing his eyes with the consideration. "Just a visual oddity, that's all."

"Exactly. Not important." Mina was acting very oddly towards Ezekiel, Dmitri noticed, and his instinctual curiosity kicked in then, but being a very private person himself, he knew to respect that in others. "What do you propose we do?"

"Surveillance… and not just with cameras," Ezekiel responded. "We have experience with tracking packs."

"This is not just _any_ pack," Dmitri said carefully. "These are deadly assassins… the top in their trade, and for very good reason."

Ezekiel's smile was confident, even a little cocky. "We know what we're doing…"

* * *

Lacertus looked up from his horizontal place on the couch as a figure loomed over him, leaning down to take the remote in her hand, and switch off the TV, which _had_ simply been playing music videos. He cocked a brow curiously, and propped himself up on an elbow, looking to Falx inquisitively. Something was bothering her… that much was evident in the mere way she sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing him, but not meeting his gaze.

Where was her confidence? Where was the intent alpha female he had gotten to know and admire over the past century? She seemed to be waning, trapped in her own thoughts… and he wasn't so sure he liked it.

"Falx?" he asked quietly, and sat up properly to face her, tossing a black lock from his brow.

The fiery haired lupa cocked her head for a moment, considered the foot of the couch, and then met his gaze. "I'm worried about Exuro. I know you are too. I'm not the only one who's noticed his behaviour…"

_Well **that's **comforting… I thought I was imagining things._ Lacertus slowly nodded in acknowledgement and agreement to her claim. "Yeah," he muttered, hearing the slow strumming from the bedroom the two alphas shared. Exuro was playing his guitar, a steady and melancholy rhythm emerging from within. He was confused and concerned by it. Exuro was – by nature and record – a cold and ruthless killer…

"He… doesn't tell me what is wrong, but I've heard him muttering in his _sleep_, Lacertus," Falx divulged, and the young werewolf heard more worry in her tone than he had ever heard in their long past together… it stirred discomfort from within him. He did not like it… not one bit.

"He's hallucinating… in the shower this morning, I heard him from outside. Gasping… his heavy breathing. I could sense his _panic_!" She shook her head, fiery locks of blonde-streaked hair toppling around her beautiful face as she diverted her icy gaze. "This is wrong… something is so very wrong with him. I don't like it, and I want him back…" She was speaking as though she were close to _losing_ him, and that concerned Lacertus more than he thought it would.

"What _can _we do?" he asked, a hint of his pessimism in his gentle voice. "You know better than anyone that he won't listen… he won't _let_ us help him. He denies it when he sees us looking at him with concern. He acts as though there's nothing wrong."

"And if he doesn't snap out of it, he could get himself killed."

Lacertus stared at Falx pointedly, and she back at him. They locked gazes intensely, but not in conflict. He remembered a time when he had feared her… but not now. She was to be respected, yes… but he need not fear her, so long as he did not defy or insult her.

"He's strong, Falx… and he's smart," he said carefully. "He knows how to take care of himself, and he always has. When danger's near, you've seen how he is… nothing else matters, apart from protecting us, and himself, and getting the job done. There's a reason he's alpha male now, despite joining last, Falx… think about it."

"It doesn't stop me worrying about him, Lacertus," Falx retaliated. "He's my mate, my lover… without him… what am I? He gives me strength, and I can't lose that."

Sighing lightly, he bowed his youthful head for a moment, and when his brown eyes rose, they were filled with a rare compassion, as he reached out, setting a hand supportively on her knee. "You won't…"

* * *

Not long after the talk between Falx and Lacertus, a call had come in about a gang in the centre of the city disrupting routines and relations and life in general. They were to be exterminated, and for the right price, the Quattuor were the team for the job. Fifteen million… people were certainly getting the right idea about funding the assassins these days. No one dared to risk underpayment, and everyone knew the price. They parted with it willingly, if they were serious about getting rid of their problems.

There was a storm coming… he could feel it in the air. He stood atop a building very similar to the one from a few nights ago, when they had eradicated the clan of vampires, shortly before he had run into Harker. His green eyes cast out over the city as his duster billowed… and he waited. Lacertus was going to give him a signal when he had attracted the gang's attention and lured them. Not that they needed to. They knew their haunts as it was, and could easily strike there.

Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment… and it happened again, causing him to waver only slightly, balling a fist as flashes blinded him internally. He winced.

_"And the boy becomes a man… perhaps a leader of men…"_

_"And women…"_

_"Sawyer!" Flame, fear… burning. _

_"May this new century be yours, son…"_

_A gunshot… sniping. The falling of a body on the snow._

_"… As the last one was mine."_

_Faces… a doctor, a scientist, a thief, a vampire, a hunter… _

_Screams, coming from his pinned victim. An ornate sword was snapped from the waist, and a harpoon gun rolled away._

_"Oh god…"_

_"Take the wheel…"_

_A racing car, driving hazardously through a collapse._

_"He'll live to fight another day…"_

As he gasped and panted, the visions fading away like water through a crack, his fist unclenched, loosening, as his hair lifted from his brow for a moment, his eyes still closed… and a single tear escaped, tumbling down his cheek.

He opened his eyes quickly, breathing heavily, shaking his head to try and force away the horrible sensation of sorrow, loss and discomfort. Something was wrong… _horribly_ wrong.

There was a glint from below that he almost missed, and he cursed himself for doing so. At once, he threw himself from the building, landing in a crouch at the bottom of the alley, joined by Falx and Gladius on each flank from the shadows at once. Without pausing even for a breath or a glance at his two companions, he headed forward, even as Lacertus agilely leapt in from a balcony above, rolling in the air, and coming in to walk behind Exuro.

As a unit, they paced out of the shadows, practically melting from them. Exuro glanced once left and right, and his fellow werewolves did the same as they emerged. It wasn't long before gunfire erupted around the area near to them, and immediately, they threw themselves to seemingly preordained positions in the alley network. Falx went low, and Lacertus leapt high, using his agility and spryness to do so. His hands gripped the metal railing of an apartment fire escape, and he hoisted over it without difficulty. His pistols were torn out of his jacket, and he let off three shots in retaliation. Gladius had thrown himself back into the shadows from which they had emerged, and his two guns were held near his shoulders in preparation.

Falx crouched tidily, like a feline almost, behind a garbage dumpster, and snapped her pistols out of her duster, cocking them and readying them, looking across the alley to see her mate with his back flat against the stone wall, making no move to bring out his weapons.

"Exuro…"

He ignored her, but not intending to be rude or cruel. He even met her gaze to signal her, seeing her slight hesitation, before she nodded, and positioned her guns, ready to fire out bullets when she emerged.

After a few seconds, and with a growl erupting from his mouth, Exuro launched himself out of his concealment, ducking and weaving down the wide alley, as bullets exploded into the trash around him, slamming the concrete beneath and around him, and the walls were chipped as the guns blazed. The distraction worked perfectly, and with his lupine agility, he avoided injury, even as the three other members of the Quattuor let rip with return fire that immediately succeeded in downing five members of the gang.

They obviously hadn't counted on heightened senses from their opponents, and Exuro leapt upward, flipping himself off a lamppost above, and ploughed down into a man below, his boot pinning his chest, as he reached down with a hand. His fangs brushed against his tongue and lips, and giving in partially, he let some of his upper body transform, but not enough to tear or ruin his clothing. His face changed entirely, and the head of the human was lost to the terrifying visage and maw of the werewolf. He roared, and lifted the man, gripping his teeth around the neck and head… and tearing.

Changing back even as he let go, he spat out the blood, disgusted by it for the drugs it carried, and shook his head, growling savagely as he saw figures retreating, their guns at their sides. One turned to see Exuro's eyes glint silver briefly, and let off a shot.

Exuro angled his body, but the bullet grazed his right thigh. Giving a snarl, he glared down the alley after the offender, who seemed to realise their mistake, and the coward took off as fast as his legs would carry him.

_Not fast enough_, Exuro thought without realising, and gave chase, hearing Falx call out to him from behind. His legs pumped as he ran, unhindered by the slight injury that was already healing in his right leg. It would be gone within the half hour. He quietened his growls when he realised he was nearing their scents, and knew they planned to ambush him. Grinning slightly, he heaved himself off the ground, tucking his legs up slightly as he headed forward and down, towards the floor again. He rolled along swiftly, hearing the gunfire rocket over where his head and shoulders would have been, and its subsequent halting when they realised their misses.

He ceased his roll sharply, and snapped up onto one knee, ripping his pistols out of his duster as he did so, aiming one out in each direction without even looking, and letting off the bullets from within in rapid succession. Their cries satisfied his lust for carnage, and when he released the tension on the triggers, three bodies had fallen to the ground. They were dead, and with a sneer, he stood to his full height, even as lightning ripped apart the dark heavens like a savage flare, forking across the heavy clouds. He looked up at it, hearing gunfire from back in the alley network as the fight was finished off, even as the sound was drowned out by the deep, groaning rumble of rolling thunder.

Exuro sighed, glancing once more to the bodies of the deceased gang members, ejecting the empty clips from his Colts, before replacing them, reloading them from his belt on the way, all in one smooth, subconscious action.

He turned to head back into the alley, lightning flashing and flaring again, unaware – shockingly enough – of his audience.

* * *

Exuro's audience consisted of three observant figures on a rooftop, eyes narrowed and keen in the darkness and raging of the turbulent storm overhead. They watched him head back into the shadows once again, before Ezekiel gave a nod of his head to John Zariel, one that the werewolf returned quickly.

Using the strength in his legs, he bowed them, and launched himself across the distance from one building to the next. He hit the rooftop at a run, spryly leaping another, and another, glancing secretively over the tops of the buildings to keep an eye on the object of his pursuit.

It wasn't long before the alpha male – with his potent smell of power, Zariel noticed – met up with the other three in his pack. They exchanged brief words that Zariel subconsciously and automatically catalogued for later reference and sharing with his team mates, and he watched them discreetly from over the top of the building closest to them.

Suddenly, the blue eyes of the alpha female – Falx – turned upward, but Zariel swiftly rolled himself backwards with the agility of a cat in a fall, landing in a very low crouch, barely above the ground more than a few inches, his head low, and his breathing all but ceased as he waited… listened… poised and prepared.

After a few uncertain and silent moments, he peered back over his perch to see the two lower wolves – Gladius and Lacertus – had headed off. Falx and Exuro had remained to share a heated, but brief kiss. They did not gaze upward again, even as thunder boomed and cracked like cannon fire, deafening. Zariel refused to react, even with the blinding lightning that lit up everything over the city, illuminating the rooftops for him perfectly, even as the alpha pair headed off after their companions.

Zariel stayed with them, thanking his personal training with Ezekiel for his stealth. The two had tracked each other and sparred almost religiously for close on twelve years, and it was no surprise they knew one another's every trait and habit, and used those to relate to others. They had learned from the behaviour of – respectively – vampire and werewolf, and applied that to their tracking of other targets. Their experiences with one another were – as Zariel liked to think – invaluable. They had been friends for close on thirty years now, after Ezekiel had hunted Zariel. Back then, Zariel's lycanthropy – to him – had been new… mostly. He hadn't been long out of his siring, and he had still been growing accustomed to his new abilities and self. Ezekiel had – in an odd moment of sincerity and compassion towards one that he didn't know – taken pity on the juvenile werewolf, and had spared him, in return for his services in finding another. Zariel had willingly parted with his knowledge, and had aided in the completion of an important task for the vampire. They had gotten to know one another, learned each other's secrets, and for ten years, they had been quite the achieving pair.

And then had come Illyria. She was quite a character, but she and Zariel had little in the way of contact. They were polite, and they were companions, but after twenty years, their only real relation was in their work. He knew very little about her, other than she had captured his friend's heart, and the two were – in their own way – engaged… even married, some would call it. The rings symbolised the union anyway, regardless of ritual.

The Quattuor – Mina had explained their name, though Zariel wondered on the obsession with Latin – had reached their vehicle, a somewhat battered black and silver soft-top Lotus, and he watched them climb in. Exuro – naturally, as he had expected – claimed the wheel, with his mate at his side, the two lower wolves in the back. He took note of the bullet holes in the chassis, and remembered to tell the others. Apparently, someone had taken a hit attempt at these guys already… though Zariel found himself doubting those attackers were still alive.

They drove away, and as the distance between the observer and the observed grew, he rose out of his predatory crouch, even as the rain started to drip down from above. He blinked slowly, and turned to head back to Ezekiel and Illyria, to tell them what he had seen, what they had learned, and how this would help them.

All in all, not a bad hunt…


	8. Break The Glass

**Author's Note:** This one's quite long, but hey, isn't that what you guys normally like? Right?

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** I thank you kindly in regards to your comment about the characters; it's very comforting as a writer to hear that. And about Exuro's flashes… thanks! Jeez, I could hug you! XD The histories should become clear as the story goes on. We've still got a while to go yet. But I will tell you one thing about Ezekiel and Mina: they were more than just friends…

**Marcus Lazarus:** The fourth party – who have popped up a few times now – appears in this chapter. Just look for the insertions that aren't the FTS, the Quattuor or Woods XD And I LOVE that tagline for Exuro! O.O It rocks my tiny little world! XD Can you tell I've had caffeine today?

**Scifi Kane:** Yay! You like Lacertus! He's my favourite… and Falx XD But I always did prefer Lac'. Thanks very much!

**Drakena:** Tom is indeed fighting o.O Can't put a good guy down… ahem, I should drink less tea. XD

**BloodMoonLycan:** Falx is a _tad_ protective O.o Hey, you just came online! Hehehehehehe. O.o Exuro is having trouble, yes… gonna get worse as well. Hard to choose between Exuro and Tom? XD

**Sethoz:** Thank you kindly, Sethoz! Much obliged. Ack! Puss In Boots eyes! O.O Nooooooo! My weakness X.x

Ahem… so, anyway, here's the new – long – chapter of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

* * *

Donovan Masters gave the warehouse base one last glance over from up on the balcony, and then turned, striding into Larson's office with only a single knock. He had never really needed to do so anyway, with his experience with the man, he had garnered enough respect not to bother. At his right leg, a gun was holstered in a leather harness, as always, and his short sleeved shirt exposed his muscular upper arms as he strode into the room, sparsely decorated due to its recent acquisition. He stood with his arms linked behind his back, and waited to be acknowledged.

Larson's dark eyes perused some test results for a few moments, before he said, "How's it coming along?"

Donovan cocked his head slightly to one side, appearing pensive with a slight furrowing of his dark brow, before he smiled slyly. "We're just about ready, sir. Everything's in place. Containment is prepared, the men are geared, and we need only finalise the last detail. I thought you'd like to know straight away."

"Damn straight I would," Larson said, beaming, and stood from his chair. He walked around his desk, and patted Donovan on the shoulder. "We have only one last item to take care of then before the operation, don't we?"

"Of course," Donovan acknowledged with a curt nod. "Whenever you're ready, sir, we'll head right out."

Larson eyed him seriously for a moment, before grinning. "You needn't ask when I think you should go. They're in the way. Get rid of them."

Donovan tried to hide his own smile. "All of them, sir?"

Larson's nod was like a gift to Donovan, and he was dismissed. He practically bounced down the metal steps, heading towards his men, who were all geared up, armed, and ready to move out. He grabbed his own waistcoat from the table nearby, and pulled it on, padded and stocked with his equipment. He checked his radio, and slipped his earpiece in, taking a large automatic off the rack, before he came to a stop before his unit.

Addressing them, with his back to the office, he knew Larson was watching. So he puffed out his chest proudly, lifted his chin, and said, "Let's move out!" As one, the unit turned and jogged to the vehicles. Donovan glanced one last time over his shoulder to Larson, who gave him a nod of approval, and then he took off after them, hopping into the passenger seat of the lead vehicle. He instructed the driver to get them on the move, and they were soon driving out of the large building, three similar vehicles in a line, heading towards their destination at a steady, swift pace.

Donovan checked his gun as he sat there; bristling with anticipation, the thrill of the job filling him as he waited, a grin slowly spreading onto his face, one that he knew was on Larson's face back in the base.

Oh, this was going to be sweet.

* * *

Ezekiel leaned back in the leather chair, spinning lazily, his sword sitting guardedly on the table near to him, and heard the slight creak of the seat. He was bored… insanely so. He had always been one for the thrills and action. He wasn't a patient man; he wasn't one for reading and the build up. He started to whistle quietly, a somewhat lonely tune, before he yawned, his entire body screaming to be stretched. His curious gaze floated to the others as they loitered, and he wondered whether or not the urgency they spoke of was in fact real.

Mina was sitting in front of a laptop computer, glasses perched on her nose gracefully, a test tube lifted in front of her eyes, and she stared at it, tapping the glass experimentally. She cocked her head inquisitively, intrigued, and made a low noise of acknowledgement as to the substance within the tube. He watched her subtly, ensuring Illyria would not see. He had loved Mina Harker once… quite positively, deep inside, still _did_. They had been fiery together, and then… he didn't like to think about it. He didn't like to place blame. Nostalgia was a weakness, in a way, and weaknesses got people hurt… killed.

"Dmitri?" Mina finally said. "If you wouldn't mind? I think we have waited long enough."

The Russian lifted his head from the book he was reading, some native novel Ezekiel couldn't translate the cover of, and nodded without a word. He placed down the book, and strode to the telephone on the centre table, lifting it in his large hand. Ezekiel rolled his head back, laying his spiky hair down flat on the rear of the chair, sighing. He listened to the sound of the dialling, and yawned again, closing his eyes, smelling Illyria's approach.

He felt her seat herself gently on his lap. She was silent as ever, but he loved her for that. She said so much more with her eyes than she did with words. They were so expressive, and he smiled lightly as she leaned into him, her head on his shoulder. He gave a contented, restless sigh, and he propped his cheek on top of her head, listening keenly to what transpired around him.

* * *

He cursed, scanning his eyes properly over the chassis, and scowling. It was a mess, and he was so far beyond annoyed he was about ready to go out into the street, take the first person he could get, and do something very unpleasant to them… what that was, he didn't know, but his imagination went into overdrive.

"How's it going?" came the voice of Lacertus from behind him. He had smelt him a while ago, watching him, but hadn't bothered to acknowledge him.

"Nowhere, and fast," Exuro retorted impatiently. "Bastards shot it to shit." He growled, and turned his back on the Lotus, leaning against it slightly. It was going to need to be serviced. There was nothing he could do to it himself, with all the body damage. "Ah well… at least they're all dead, right?" He shrugged, sighing, and closed his eyes for a moment, with a flash of memory snatching at his senses. He saw himself careening towards an old theatre, after firing a flare, but jerked back to reality when the car slammed down in a landing.

"You okay, Ex'?"

"I'm fine," was his automatic, and blunt response, as he turned to look at the interior of the car. "They didn't get too deep in, luckily," he said, abruptly changing the subject lest Lacertus hit home on the problem, something that did not delight Exuro in thinking about. "It's just bodywork, but it's nothing I can fix."

"It can be repaired," the other werewolf pointed out lazily, before turning his head slightly, at the same time as Exuro himself. The two stared at the doorway, moments before Falx and Gladius came through it, the alpha female holding a cell phone out to the alpha male.

"You're not going to believe who it is," she said, her voice carrying her tone of irritation brilliantly. Exuro hesitantly reached out and took it, eyeing the others warily as he put it to his ear.

"Who is this?"

"As I told your mate, you will recognise my voice. Introductions are pointless, and unnecessary."

"Dmitri," Exuro growled, and glanced to Lacertus, who was the other curious individual in the room. "What the hell do _you_ want? I don't care how you got the number, but I want a reason _now_, or I'm hanging up."

"I'd just phone back," the Russian responded. Exuro could picture the vague smile on the large man's face, and he frowned angrily.

"When did _you_ get so cocky?" Shaking his head, he quickly said, "Anyway, what are you calling for? I seriously doubt you want a job done, so what is it?"

"It's time to end it."

He knew his fellow lycanthropes had heard that, and looked to them with intrigue as they all turned their heads in his direction upon the sound of those words coming through the phone.

"End it…" he repeated, almost questioningly.

"Yes… it has gone on for long enough."

A cunning smile spread across Exuro's face for a moment, before his senses and alarms kicked in, and he said sarcastically, "Hold, please." He brought the phone away, doing just as he'd said, and putting the call on hold at the touch of a button, before looking to the others. "Now… why don't I trust them?"

"Because they've been after us for over one hundred years?" Lacertus responded blandly.

Falx was stoically and fiercely silent, standing solidly before her mate, and she stared into his eyes firmly, saying everything with her gaze. She was reluctant too, in case of a trap – not that those fools ever had a chance of outsmarting them – but eager to get it all over with, and as soon as possible.

Gladius, however, wasn't quite so hesitant. "So what are we waiting for? Aren't you _tired_ of wondering if they're on our tails? They've followed us for nearly a _century_. Let's be rid of them!"

Exuro glanced; eyes narrowed, at the omega, and cocked his head. "Why are _you_ so keen all of a sudden?"

"I've had enough of them," Gladius responded, confidently. "And I thought you, for one, might leap at the chance to destroy them once and for all. They're challenging us! Don't back down from them, Exuro."

Exuro bristled at that, squaring his shoulders. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn Gladius was goading him to get his way… but he had a point. Glancing to the other two, they shrugged or remained silent, offering no argument, so he closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, and took the phone off hold, saying into it, "Fine. When and where?"

There was a certain, annoying apprehension twisting his gut at the thought of meeting up with the three of them again, those who had once been allies of Tom Sawyer… it showed no signs of fading, and he found himself wondering why it was so strong.

* * *

"Sir!"

The door flew open as Strand ran in urgently; tie flying over his shoulder as he entered, without knocking, panic flashing in his eyes as he exclaimed, "Sir! We have intruders in the building!"

Samuel looked up from his papers, irritated and temples throbbing, saying, "So have the guards accompany them from the premises, Strand. Calm down, for goodness' sake."

Strand surged up to the side of the desk, palms flat on the polished wood, and he panted as he shook his head vehemently. "That's just the _problem_, sir… they've already _killed_ all the guards!"

Samuel's eyes lifted at once, and widened. "They're armed?"

Strand nodded quickly.

"Is it the Quattuor?" For years, Samuel had anticipated an attack by the four, but never had it happened. He wasn't entirely sure why. Though his guards' guns were – or _had_ been – loaded with silver bullets, the four could probably have easily infiltrated the building and exterminated most of the occupants before being stopped.

"No, sir, not the Quattuor."

As he was standing from his desk hurriedly to get a view on the situation, he briskly demanded, "Then _who_?"

"We don't know, sir, but they look military to an extent." They were walking down the corridor towards a surveillance room by this point. "They're working as an organised unit, which suggests training and obedience. There's one clear head of the group, and he's the one who's taken out most of the guards so far."

"Have you run any physical scans through the databases?"

"Yes, sir, and we got nothing. Either they're too good to be on record or… they don't exist." Strand jogged to keep up with his superior, even as Samuel threw open the door to his surveillance room, and strode right over to the main wall of monitors. Just as Strand had explained, there were bodies of the once-infallible guards on several, and on others, he could see the men moving about. Again, just as Strand had reported, they worked as a unit, compact and ruthless, obedience and experience radiating from them in waves, even through the glass of the monitors.

"Where are the backup teams?" Samuel demanded of the man to his right, the one responsible for just such a notification. He was wearing a small headset to contact and communicate with the team, and he looked up at his superior.

"They've been dispatched already, sir," he reported, confusion on his youthful features. He shook his head. "But I've lost contact. I can't explain it."

"Well find a way, and fast," Samuel growled. Quietly, under his breath, to himself, he added, "I don't like losing control…"

* * *

Donovan whirled at the sound of footsteps swiftly approaching, and lots of them, inwardly mocking their serious lack of stealth. If they were aiming to sneak up on his team, they were failing miserably, and he ducked into the alcove of a doorway, along with the rest of his unit. One half had stayed with him, and the other had stayed with Michaels, his second in command, a stalwart, somewhat stoic man fresh out of the armed forces. He had been expelled for misconduct, but Donovan had assured him a place in his own unit. He wanted the best, regardless of their previous indecencies on superior officers or the like. None of that mattered to him. It was quality he was after, and he more or less always got it. He was a man who liked to get his way… by any means necessary.

He aimed down the length of the automatic weapon, sighting expertly and briskly, and as soon as the first man had ducked around the corner, he was downed instantly by a brief burst from Donovan's gun. He landed flat on his back with a grunt, and the other men jumped back, alerted to the presence of enemy fire.

_No shit… took 'em long enough._

They were calling to one another, and Donovan indicated to his men with hand signals, brief and abrupt, yet precise, to instruct them. They nodded their confirmation, and executed defined manoeuvres. He had trained them well, and nothing but the best was good enough to make it onto his team. They all knew that. It was what kept them focused. No one had disappointed Donovan enough for him to show what that would lead to, and he hoped he would never have to.

It was so swift that Donovan only registered it due to his knowing it was coming. The lights were shot out, and the only illumination came in flashes from the bursts of gunfire from his men's weapons. Shouts of surprise and agony came from the other end of the corridor, and by the time Donovan struck a flare and tossed it, he saw that all their opponents had been downed. One was still moving. Shouldering his automatic, he headed in the lead down the corridor, and placed his boot on the man's chest.

_Mercy kill_, was the only thought running through his head as he drew his sidearm and without batting an eyelid, shot the man in the heart, killing him. With that, and not a second thought, holstering his pistol and hefting his automatic again, they carried on towards their target.

* * *

Samuel turned furiously to his other workers in the room. "Somebody tell me what's happening out there, _now_!" He turned this way and that, and saw a number of hands fly deftly over keyboards, check the earpieces they wore, or look to him. None showed a scrap of offering, and he imagined he'd growled in that moment.

The one he had spoken with originally shrugged with a shake of his head. "We're not getting anything back from the teams sent out to stop the renegades, sir. I've got… nothing."

"Alpha and Beta teams are down," reported another. "I've lost Gamma, and Delta never even got out of the base."

Samuel let out a yell and took hold of a keyboard from an unused desk, tearing it from the wall and hurling it across the room, where it smashed against one of the large screens showing the intruders. The keys shattered out of the plastic casing and scattered across the floor, with everyone looking on in surprise at the outburst. As if on cue, or having heard the noise, the obvious leader of the teams invading his building turned his head to the camera with a sly smirk, and lifted his weapon, shooting out the lens. In line, all the cameras went down, and all the men in the room tried frantically to get them back in working order.

Samuel could only stand in dismay, seething and ready to grab someone and strangle the life out of them if they didn't give him _something_.

"All the cameras are dead, sir."

Anything but _that_.

"That is not what I wanted to _hear_, dammit," he snarled, and the man cowered apologetically.

"Sir, we should get you out of the building," Strand offered at once, his panic lacing his voice. "We can have a chopper on the roof–"

"I will not run away, Strand," Samuel snapped back. "I will not flee with my tail between my legs like some cowardly _dog_." The emphasis on the word was not lost on the others in the room. Samuel suspected the Quattuor of being involved, they knew, and he couldn't help but give in to suspicion. Who else could be behind this? He only wished there was something he could use to stop these men. "Strand, give me that number."

"Sir?"

"Don't act ignorant with me, Strand! Give me the goddamn number!" The fire that blazed in his eyes was reflected in Strand's, and the man snatched into his jacket pocket even as the computer screens in the room flickered out of life, and the lights waned. They were tampering with the power.

Samuel grabbed the slip of paper, and yanked his cell phone from his pocket. He could hear footsteps down the hall, though they were hushed… stealthy. They were getting nearer. It would not be long before they reached this room, he knew, but he would not go down quietly. He quickly dialled the number, almost stubbornly reluctant before survivor's instinct kicked in, and he pressed the phone to his ear, hearing it ring.

Even as someone picked up the line on the other side to answer, the door blew inward, and Samuel dropped the phone. His attention from it was lost as he and Strand headed for the back of the room. Samuel yearned for a weapon, and suddenly found he couldn't remember where he had kept them. They were in this room, somewhere, he knew, even as three operators were blasted out of their chairs by gunfire, thrown bloodily to the floor, dead. Samuel boiled with a rage, and cast his eyes about, freezing when he looked over his shoulder. The locker… they were in the locker.

Haphazardly, he threw himself towards it, hearing more of the gunfire and agonised death screams of his workers, even as he grabbed the code bar on the locker. He punched it in, and tore the door open, scrambling for a weapon, cursing his nerves at this desperate time. His hand clasped around the grip of a handgun, and he turned to use it just as someone was advancing on Strand. He pulled the trigger, and hit the intruder, sending him backwards… but not killing him.

They were wearing vests, the whole damn lot of them!

Samuel growled in frustration, and remembered what training he had ever received, and aimed again; pulling the trigger to take down one of the men, blood spraying from a fresh hole in his neck. They had their vulnerable spots, and Samuel knew where to hit. The legs, arms and neck… if possible, the face.

The leader of the men ducked in the doorway and fired a shot towards Samuel, but he ducked behind the desk, grabbing Strand roughly by the collar and yanking him out of the line of fire, just as bullets exploded into where he _had_ been crouched.

"Keep your bloody eyes open, dammit!" He thrust a gun into Strand's hand. Though the man had never been keen on combat, Samuel knew Strand would do what it took to get out of the building alive. If necessary, he would take down whatever men tried to stop them.

Strand fired at one of the men, slamming them in the knee, and the scream from the wounded man resonated around the room as he crumpled to the floor. Samuel nodded in acknowledgement of Strand's willingness and poked his head out from his hiding place again. The men at the computers were all dead, and the floor and walls had been sprayed with their blood.

It was just him and Strand now. To their knowledge, there was no one else in the building to help them.

"Sir," Strand began somewhat negatively and desperately and his widened eyes turned to his superior as he shifted the grip on his weapon, a regulation sidearm. His whole arm was shaking.

"I know we're stuck, Strand, so don't tell me useless information." Though he had intended to sound stern, it came out somewhat quavering, showing his own lack of nerves in this situation.

"Sir," Strand began again, his voice a hiss of attempted discretion. "There's another way, if we can just get out the door behind us…the passages."

Samuel narrowed his eyes in thought, and then looked to his assistant with careful consideration. He was right. Why hadn't Samuel thought of it before? He patted Strand on the shoulder, and spoke in a low voice to tell him what to do, when and how.

* * *

Donovan sighed, almost disappointed, and reloaded his automatic, shaking his head and tutting loudly. He knew there were two of them behind that desk, _hoping_ they couldn't be seen. Pathetic really. He had seen them dive behind it. Did they think him stupid?

_Well… they won't live to regret it, will they?_ Donovan mused with a smirk, and poked his head and gun nozzle over the edge of the desk, aiming at… nothing.

Gunfire erupted around him then, and he heard the shouts of his own men. The noise made him practically snarl in rage, and he turned to see the last one ducking out the door, the two men he had been intending to aim at ducking behind their cover again. Donovan rolled his eyes. He had heard _one_ gun click on empty. But which one was it? No matter what, he was confident he could outmanoeuvre it. He had had training, and plenty of it. He would hear the movement before the bullet, and if he timed it right, he might even be able to wind it so that one shot the other.

Which was something he would find amusing.

Smirking, he strode into the middle of the room, where the desks parted, and there was a kind of cross in the workspace. He lowered his gun for a while, appearing to surrender himself… and then the idiots did exactly as he had predicted.

The one to his left jerked into motion, and the right wasn't far behind. Their gun barrels lifted, and Donovan quickly measured just by their appearance which one was out of bullets. So it was that he acted as he did.

He slammed his gun around, twisting his body so his back was to the younger man on his left, and rammed the grip backwards, feeling and hearing it connect with a dull thud into the face. He heard the body fall back with a grunt and a cry, and then it did not move.

Without blinking, Donovan aimed his gun at the older man, and fired, blasting him back with the force of a projectile anvil. The bullet lodged in Woods' – he recognised his face – chest, and rammed him back, and down to the ground with a gurgle. Blood bubbled into his mouth, and spilled from the corner of his lips, eyes straying to the wound in his chest, and then rising to meet the soldier's. Donovan paced forward, and crouched down; noticing Woods did not even lift his gun to strike in return.

"A gift," he said quietly, slyly, loud enough for the dying man to hear, and leaned in close, "from General Robert Larson."

Woods' eyes widened in recognition of the name, and Donovan rested back on his haunches as the man choked, jerked once, and then died. He sighed loudly, and tilted his head in consideration of the corpse in front of him. His men started to file back into the room again.

"You know what to do," he said to the 'clean up crew'. Of course, clean up translated roughly to 'smash and destroy'. This, of course, related to the computers, which held records of Larson's proposed research, the reason he had been ejected from his service in the first place.

Fools… they were missing the rise of a new era.

With a gloved hand, Donovan reached into his waistcoat inner pocket, and retrieved a small, compact cell phone. Pressing a few buttons, he lifted it to his ear, waited for the answering voice, and simply said, "We're done here."

"Good," was Larson's response, stoic but happy, Donovan knew, from working with the ex-general for a time now. "You know where you're needed. Do me proud."

"Yes sir," Donovan replied, and cut off the call, replacing the phone as he stood, the music of destroyed computers blowing and sparking all around him as he added, "Absolutely…"

* * *

The pictures were scattered everywhere, the files they needed to study before their encounter with the Quattuor spread and easy to consult. No words were spoken – at least not yet. They all simply stared down at the pages that had been set out like a jigsaw puzzle, and wore matching expressions of grim resolve.

Anise was feeling… she didn't know _what_ she felt, but she didn't like it. She was going to see _him_ again, one of the rare occasions where Dmitri and Mina would allow it. They had kept them apart as many times as possible, despite Anise's belief that she would be able to _help_ him.

Her fingers acted of their own accord, touching lightly over one of the surveillance photos laid out before her, and without realising, she had picked it up to stare at it. The tears did not come, and her eyes simply gazed unwaveringly at the print of _him_. He was gazing slightly over one shoulder, to the rest of the Quattuor slightly out of frame, and she sighed with a frown.

What would happen when she saw him again? Face to face?

"Anise…" A hand touched against her arm gently, and she was aware of Mina addressing her softly, and in reassurance. "We _will_ get him back."

When she responded, her voice was almost distant, her eyes focused solely on the picture, with everyone looking at her. "We have to. This has lasted long enough."

And with that, she placed the picture face down on the table, determined that this would be the end of it. Tonight would be the last time she saw Exuro…

She would get him back… the _real_ him.

The shrill ringing of the phone startled her, and Dmitri reached over to activate the speaker, but before either he or the caller could speak, a loud crash and gunfire was heard through it. Eyes widened and met across the table, and yells of pain flowed to their ears.

Something was very wrong…


	9. The Game Is On

**Author's Note:** Well, this chapter has been long enough in coming… and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Couple of trailer points in this one, which I hope you can spot, heh. Don't worry; I'm not gonna ask you to point them all out XD Anyway, on with the – rather long – chapter.

**Marcus Lazarus:** That is indeed the fourth party… well, third now if we want to get technical… ahem. As for the cure and the drugs… Mina was examining them in the chapter before last, I believe, at her laptop with a test tube. Woods gave them to her already, luckily. Gladius? Something you don't know about? You'll have to wait and see…

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** Woods is indeed dead, yes… Masters made sure of that. I'm very glad you paid so much attention to the trailer, because you're making some good guesses at what's to come. And as for Ezekiel and Mina… I'll see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises XD

**BloodMoonLycan:** Thanks, buddy! That's very – perhaps too – kind of you to say so. Go ahead; give Masters a kick in the shins XD It'll make you feel better… in fact, let's ALL kick him in the shins! No wait… I need him, don't I? Hmm…

**Sethoz:** All that death is definitely not a good thing o.O Thanks very much for the review, and I hope I answer some of your – unasked; if you even have any – questions in this instalment.

**Ceru S:** Thanks, regarding Exuro. I like playing with those and showing bits of his past; trying to give him complications and depth. Same goes for Anise; I'm very glad you like her. Funny you should say that about Falx… ahem… about the plot etc… thanks! You really are very kind and helping put my mind at ease O.o Anyway…

On with the show!

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The six had had no idea how right they would be about their assumptions as to grave goings-on at the government building where Anise, Mina and Dmitri had met Woods and his board only a matter of two days ago, if not less. They stepped over the broken glass of the foyer, boots crunching the shards underfoot, and the three women were the ones to stride ahead, the wary men behind. All were armed, planning to head straight from this reconnaissance to their meeting with the Quattuor.

Ezekiel and Illyria carried the vials of the drug Woods had concocted secretly to destroy the Latin-named counterparts within the assassins, two in each of their pockets, enough for each member. They didn't plan on only 'rescuing' Tom Sawyer, but the other three as well. There must have still been some humanity left in them _somewhere_, surely.

Zariel constantly gazed back over his shoulder, being last in the group to advance into the depths of the building, where there were swiftly executed bodies everywhere, at every turn. They stepped cautiously over them, following their collective heightened senses along the path that would lead them to the owner of the cell phone that had contacted them so abruptly and noisily.

Mina strode fully into the lead, Anise and Ezekiel quickly behind, the latter with his beautiful sword across his back. He was quiet, but Mina could practically smell his curiosity. She ignored it, knowing it had gotten the male vampire into trouble in the past. This would be no exception if he wasn't careful. If they were hasty or careless, something could go against their favour, and they would be caught unawares.

It didn't take them long – being three vampires and three werewolves – to find the scent they had been tracking. Of course, the three new arrivals had been a little in the dark as to the smell itself. They had simply been able to pick up on the scent because of the direction the others were headed. They had detected the trailing smell of the man they were tracing, and homed in on it.

"Through here," Mina whispered warily, and stepped over the threshold of a room, the door blocked by bodies of what appeared to be technicians and operators. As she turned her face upwards from the death masks of the victims, her heart constricted, in an oddly unfamiliar fashion. The last time she had felt such a sensation had been in Africa, when poor old Allan Quatermain had passed away. She didn't understand it now.

As she strode towards the body, she realised she had not been at all close to this man. In fact, she had rather disliked him. Not in the same fashion she had hated the man's ancestor, the one to start it all, but… he had had the same potential for wickedness in him. But in saying that, he _had_ given them the 'antidote' to save their friend.

Suddenly, she was rather wary about using the drug on Exuro and the others. What if Woods had lied to them, and the drug was actually a fatal dose of some new chemical designed to kill werewolves?

But, she supposed, Tom Sawyer would rather die than carry on as a murderer. Who knew what he would want when they returned to himself even? He may want to end his life anyway. Mina hoped not.

Simply by looking at the bloodied and limp body of Samuel Woods, she could come to a definite conclusion; "He's dead."

"I'm not surprised," Ezekiel murmured in agreement, crouching beside her at the corpse's side. "Looks like an automatic rifle. At that range, it would have killed anyone, even if not instantly. Vampires and werewolves would have one hell of a time with the wound at that proximity and aim as well."

Mina simply nodded faintly, staring at the peaceful face of the dead politician, and sighed quietly, seeing the dropped cell phone across the floor, the battery having died. The call had cut off abruptly on their end in their building as well, but she had guessed it had been destroyed or deactivated. Anise paced over to it, only to start slightly when a sudden movement opposite Woods' body surprised her. She stood, poised to retaliate, when Mina and Ezekiel stood. The three vampires were more on edge than the lycanthropes, the strong coppery tang of blood filling their senses from every direction, making them hunger; the thirst rising up in them like the beast it was. But they kept their composure. In fact, Mina still wasn't sure if she had heard Illyria say a single word since their meeting her. She seemed very, _very_ quiet. It was almost unnerving.

Mina and her old acquaintance – some part of her was ashamed to admit what they had really been, though she could not fathom why – paced cautiously over to regard the form that had jerked, before a low groan filled the air. They stared down inquisitively at the bloodied face, most of the thick liquid having spilled from what seemed to be a broken nose and split lip, along with a gash along the brow. It had run down his face, and into his hair. Mina crouched down slightly, looking the man up and down. It seemed to be only the injuries they could see that aggrieved him. Not to mention he also seemed to be the only living person they had seen so far, if not in the whole building. It appeared no one had been spared.

Cocking her head, she watched the eyes open halfway, as the man tried to make sense of what was going on around him. He appeared frightened; worried that Mina and the others would do something to him… before he seemed to focus on her face, and perhaps placed her identity. His expression showed that he could very well have recognised her.

"What happened here?" Mina asked softly, her voice cool and calm, looking down on him sympathetically, but warily. Why was this one single man alive when the others had been slaughtered? It made little sense to her, and so made her cautious. Old habits died especially hard in vampires, it seemed.

The man struggled to form words, blood in his mouth, but he managed one at least; "Attacked…"

"Who attacked you?" Ezekiel inquired calmly, making sure to say each word carefully so the pained man could hear him.

The man shook his head, and Mina watched his movements. She turned her head slightly, as did Zariel and Dmitri at the doorway. They could all hear the high pitched whines that were approaching. Sirens. They didn't have long. It wouldn't do to be discovered here, in this scene of massacre, especially when they were armed and so clean of injury.

"Was it the Quattuor?" she asked clearly and pointedly, looking the man right in the face as she leaned a little closer. This could fit their work, but it seemed so over the top for the assassins. Certainly, yes, they _were_ killers, but contracted killers. It seemed unlikely that they would take out everyone in the building in this fashion… but then she stopped herself. She realised they still didn't know everything about their behaviour. It was very possible they were responsible.

The man made no response, and as Mina watched, he seemed to be losing consciousness again, the solid blow he had obviously received to the face having stolen most of his sense from him.

"Was it the Quattuor?" she asked again, slightly louder, with Anise throwing her a gaze for a moment, almost as if she were wondering why Mina was trying to get confirmation of this and this alone.

But before she could get her answer, the man lost consciousness, and she cursed lightly under her breath, before Zariel and Dmitri growled in unison.

"We have company," Zariel muttered in a strong whisper, and looked to Ezekiel and Mina. The two vampires nodded, and collectively, they stood and strode from the room. There was no use in going down. Police and who knew what else would be there by now. They needed to go up. The roof was their only real option.

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Falx strode up to her lover, running a hand across his back, having watched him from a distance and seeing his difficulty with whatever was troubling his already busy mind. He had healed perfectly from the collision with the SUV, and was leaning against one of the buildings on his left shoulder, lifting a cigarette to his lips with his right. He usually only _actually_ smoked when something was bothering him.

He shifted slightly at her gentle touch, and murmured quietly, closing his eyes as he angled his head up to exhale the smoke in a long streaming cloud, before turning narrowed and intelligent eyes upon her. She smiled, and asked the question with her gaze. He saw it and sighed lightly, knocking the ash from the end of the lit butt, and shrugged.

"I'm fine," he told her in confidence, and turned to her after flicking the cigarette away from him and into the depths of the shadows. A very small growl of irritation sounded and Falx smiled playfully, knowing who Exuro had nearly hit. Gladius emerged, eyes narrowed, and then padded off sulkily. She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning into him, their dusters blowing together around their legs as she breathed in his scent, strong and powerful, so comforting and assertive. She was happy just to lean into him for as long as possible, comforted by his presence and solidity.

"Liar…" she mumbled teasingly with a slight smirk, her eyes closed as she rested her cheek against his chest. She heard his dry chuckle, how it reverberated through his ribcage, and then settled for listening to his firm heartbeat. She groaned quietly in pleasure, wanting to go back to their home and just lie in bed with him, listening to that rhythm.

"They're late," he sighed. He turned his head all around, trying to locate any signs of their approach. She was getting impatient too; antsy also. She wanted to get this over and done with, as they had promised. If they didn't show, she would be _very_ disappointed. Not to mention irritated. They had done nothing but rub her the wrong way for a little over a century now, and she didn't want this to add to her fury regarding the pests. She wanted to squash them like the insects they were.

She turned around then, leaning her back gently against his strong frame, feeling his arms wrap around her stomach to embrace her from behind, and she clasped her hands over his own, sighing lightly. The Quattuor were dressed entirely in black, as usual, and she looked around, head touching back against Exuro's shoulder. "This is getting on my nerves."

"Tell me about it," he grumbled, and just a hint of his rattling growl lingered on the air. She looked up at him, and he returned the gaze. "They'd better come, or I'll track them down and finish it _for _them."

She nodded, quite liking the idea. It would certainly be rewarding to surprise them like her lover suggested, and see the dismay on their faces… but that was not to be the way, she knew. She could hear the wings already, and she turned her blue eyes skyward, knowing Exuro, Lacertus and Gladius mimicked. The young dark-haired werewolf came up beside his alphas, and cocked his head.

"About time," he muttered, glancing eagerly to Exuro. The alpha male grinned in response, and turned Falx to him, capturing her lips in a heated and passionate kiss, his fingers tracing up her sides to cup her face affectionately, before he pulled away and said, "Let's get this over with, shall we?" Together, the four members of the assassin band, Quattuor, stared upward, eyes narrowed, and as one, their eyes glowed feral and otherworldly lupine shades of black, yellow, green and silver. Growls reverberated before they paced forward, the alphas in the lead with Lacertus and Gladius branching out behind them to shadow.

The bats coursed downward in spirals, and as they watched, they collected not into just one form… but _three_.

"They're up to something…" Falx hissed, and her eyes flooded black. She felt the tips of her teeth brush her tongue as she snarled lowly. Exuro's hand brushed hers as he nodded subtly, even as three further figures leapt gracefully from the rooftops. One of them spun in midair, and landed in a crouch, his head bowed for a moment. As it rose, his limp and long hair fell in his face, his eyes flashing for a moment. Dmitri and Anise were near to this stranger, and they came out of their brief crouches swiftly and paced up next to Mina Harker, whose auburn hair flickered at her sides like it was alive, before the curl became apparent. Two more vampires shadowed at her sides; one male and one female. The male wore a sword across his back.

"Brought some help, Harker?" Exuro snarled as they melted out of the shadows, their black clothing blending perfectly with the darkness around them, as if they were part of it, not the world.

She cocked her attractive head to one side, and smiled sarcastically. "In a manner," she sighed.

"Aw," Falx purred from Exuro's right, eyeing Anise in particular, as if she were a meal and not an opponent, "we've scared them, lover." Exuro laughed quietly, and Lacertus grinned mischievously.

The three werewolves facing the Quattuor growled quietly, and found that it was soon joined by the assassin's own snarls, and when the vampires joined in challengingly, it reached quite a cacophony of savage threat. Eventually, it died down enough for Mina to say, "I take it you enjoyed tearing through Woods' forces."

Exuro narrowed his eyes pensively, and pocketed his hands for just a moment, saying, "Well… I'm not sure I know what you mean exactly." Falx knew he was actually being sincere in that admission, not that these filthy mongrels and leeches would know that or care.

"He's dead…" Mina hissed.

"As if you didn't know," the male vampire snapped, and he and Exuro met gazes fiercely for a few intense moments. The vampire's hair seemed more spiked and wild than it had been upon his landing, and Falx knew this to attribute to his vampiric heritage.

"I wish we could take credit for it," Exuro drawled as if bored or disappointed – perhaps both – before he continued, "… but that wasn't us. We had nothing to do with it."

A light scoff came from the male vampire, and Falx threw him a black gaze and offered a snarl; her way of telling him where running his mouth would get him. He didn't seem fazed, and that annoyed the alpha female more than anything. She wasn't used to being ignored, nor did she like it… not one bit. She now had her eye on _two_ of them to mark for her targets. Anise, and this new cocky vampire. She would enjoy rearranging his body parts.

"Either way," Exuro continued with an edge, "that's beside the point, isn't it? We're here to finish this… and that's _exactly_ what we're going to do." Gladius seemed rather eager at their side all of a sudden, but Falx made a point of ignoring the omega. He grated on her nerves at the best of times… she supposed it was too much to hope for that he lost a limb or something else he might miss. Shrugging lightly, she engaged in a staring contest with the female werewolf, their eyes never wavering, and locking harshly.

"You wish to get this over with?" Harker nodded thoughtfully, eyes downcast for a moment, before she murmured in continuation, "Very well."

And then she lunged with a feral snarl, two silver daggers ringing as they were revealed, and she pounced directly towards Exuro, who bellowed angrily without transforming, and leapt back into an athletic roll away from the vampire opponent. The alley exploded into combat. They selected targets before they could blink, and roars and snarls alike tore through the air as they clashed fiercely in the confined space.

Lacertus and Dmitri slammed into one another with the force of twin anvils, the strength to shatter bone behind each blow, and they were soon tossing each other back and forward like rag dolls. Falx had to admire Lacertus' power in that display.

Gladius rammed into the female vampire, driving her back and into the building with only a feminine grunt. The other werewolf was soon pouncing on the omega's back, however, and tearing him away with sheer force, and Gladius rolled backwards, only to be flipped up into the air and over the stranger's body with a powerful shove of the legs. Falx almost laughed.

Exuro and Mina were exchanging blows like jackhammers, slamming each other with fist and boot alike, but he was careful to doge and weave when the daggers flashed and cut towards him. He narrowly avoided a wound across the back as he spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to Harker's jaw that sent her reeling away.

Falx was rewarded with her wanted targets, and she laughed eagerly as she threw herself into the fray, kicking Anise so hard in the stomach that the fellow werewolf doubled over instantly, gasping at the impact. Falx nearly received the sharp edge of the vampire's sword across her chest for her troubles, and backhanded him across the face in a way that made him spin, before she leapt up into the air, both feet slamming into his chest and driving him away. Spinning and landing perfectly, she grinned at her opponents, eyes two pools of black before she snarled and pounced anew.

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Hair flying in his face, Zariel rolled up to his feet swiftly and agilely, coat spinning around his hips as he reclaimed his balance and growled fiercely at the other werewolf; Gladius. He recognised his profile from the photos he had seen. He had committed the identities of the Quattuor to memory for just such an occasion, so he knew who he was up against. Though Gladius was at the bottom of the command ladder, he was strong and brutal; Zariel would have to be careful, he knew. Illyria came up beside him, fists clenched into a fighting stance as she bowed her body somewhat to prepare for combat.

Gladius laughed throatily as he reclaimed his footing, shaking off the landing that had gone somewhat wrong. He glared straight at Zariel, who returned the strong gaze, and said, "Well… you're a wily one, aren't you? I'm gonna enjoy tearing out your heart and _eating_ it whole."

Zariel donned a disgusted expression for all of two seconds before Gladius had rammed into him, jarring his ribs and ramming him into the wall in the exact mimic of what he had done to Illyria. Before Zariel could counter, Gladius' fist found the werewolf's stomach, and impacted harshly, making him grit his teeth and bite back a yell. Thrusting his head forward, he felt it connect with Gladius', throwing the omega male away, stumbling, to be kicked in the back of the head by Illyria.

Gladius turned, eyes narrowed, looking irritated, to face the vampire, and he solidly punched her across the face with a snarl. "Haven't you heard there's no honour in attacking your opponent from behind?"

"What do you know of honour?" Zariel snapped as he shed his coat, slowly preparing himself, and calling to the wolf inside. He had come to know his lupine alter-ego, and could control it perfectly. Other werewolves were in turmoil with their wolves, but not Zariel… he knew his like a friend, and they relied on one another and worked as a team. It was always there when he needed it. It wasn't so much a part of him as another creature dwelling within.

Gladius delivered a kick to Illyria's gut to throw her away before he turned back to Zariel, offering a sarcastic, "I'm an _assassin_. It's all about the kill for me." He grinned wickedly, and then paced towards Zariel. "How about we have a round whilst the bitch recovers?"

Zariel glared. Illyria was a friend, and he wouldn't tolerate this treatment of her. And he knew Ezekiel wouldn't either, but looking across the way confirmed that the male vampire had his hands full with Falx. Slamming his fist into Gladius' jaw, he said, "All right. Fine."

Gladius brought his fist up, but Zariel ducked back agilely, avoiding the blow, but succumbed to the foot in the back of his knee which downed him, before the elbow drove down into his shoulder, stunning him. Gasping briefly, he closed his eyes, and when they opened, they had flooded a liquid black. He could see his reflection in a slight puddle before him on the alley's floor, and he turned quickly, bringing up a hand to catch Gladius' fist as it aimed down at his head. Twisting fiercely, he heard the snap, and then rammed a fist into the omega's stomach, and then his chest, effectively throwing him away.

The wolf inside was waiting patiently but eagerly, and it was almost as if he could feel it pacing in anticipation.

_Wait's over_, he told it calmly, and it seemed to howl excitedly as it pushed its way up, even as he pulled his shirt from over his head in one swift and easy movement of his arms. Even as he dropped it to the ground, he grew, his height increasing impressively. His hair bled a silvery-grey, and extended down the sides of his face and neck, all across his bare chest and back, swarming over his arms and down below his pants as he transformed. He growled as canine fangs pushed through his gums, his face contorting into the unmistakeably lupine features, and his jaws snapped eagerly for the kill and the victory. His hands flexed as claws broke from his fingertips, hands widening into versatile paws. His feet mimicked the process when free of the scuffed boots, and his knees cracked backwards halfway down the calf, giving him perfect movement in both bipedal and quadruped movement, if he so wished. Tall ears flattened against an almost graceful werewolf skull as Zariel roared at Gladius in a challenge.

Gladius seemed impressed… before he lunged, shedding his coat and boots somehow as he did so. He ignored his shirt, which tore around him as he changed so swiftly that Zariel barely had time to blink before a large and shaggy lycanthrope opponent slammed into him and drove him down and over, the two of them rolling and slashing so fiercely that it seemed they were literally trying to tear one another to pieces.

Illyria could only watch, trying to fathom some course of action to help.

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Anise gasped and winced madly, colours dancing behind her eyelids as Falx successfully landed another blinding and potentially crippling blow to her back, and she stumbled, forcing herself to recuperate, and fast. Ezekiel jumped in to defend her immediately, exploding into bats with his sword still unsheathed to help conceal her as she recovered.

She murmured a thanks to him as she used the cover of the creatures to transform, her shaggy chestnut-coated wolf pushing to the surface as her clothing dropped to the floor around her. She dropped to all fours as her neck cracked in preparation, and her amber eyes blinked readily; she growled a response to Ezekiel's bats, telling them to stay where they were… she had an idea.

Falx was pacing just outside the swarm, snarling irritably for her opponent to come out of her hiding, and Anise was only too happy to oblige, bursting out of her hiding place with a high-pitched bellow, crashing into the alpha female headfirst and slamming her to the ground, almost pinning her before two boots slammed into her middle and kicked her away. This gave Falx time to mimic her enemy, in which she threw her duster to the side of the alley, and ripped her top from her head, not in the slightest perturbed about the men who _weren't_ Exuro. But then again, she wasn't naked from the waist up long enough for it to be an issue as her own werewolf counterpart tore upward and she contorted wickedly, becoming tall and gangly, a shaggy mane like a dog's spreading around her head, neck and shoulders, and she shook as she finished changing, flexing vicious talons before slashing them through the air. Ezekiel reverted to his human solidity, and bore his fangs as he moved towards Falx, who quickly spun and knocked him aside as if he weighed nothing at all. He hit the wall with a yell, and almost dropped his sword, but shook himself off, and looked back to the combat that was about to ensue.

Anise felt her hackles rising up all down her bare back, and she growled, her jowls peeling back to bear her fangs dangerously in a threat. She clacked them together, telling Falx to stop wasting time. The alpha female obliged, and leapt forward swiftly, in a blur, trying to tackle Anise, who only crouched against the floor like a waiting lion, feeling the brush of air as her opponent missed by scant inches. Standing and turning simultaneously, Anise lunged, leaping up onto Falx's back and digging her claws in, remembering for a brief moment when she had done the exact same thing to Tom over one hundred years ago.

As she recalled it, she remembered what her weakness had been in that fight, and quickly scrambled over the shoulders, tearing flesh as she went, jumping off and delivering an insulting kick to the snout as she went, almost chuckling as she landed. Falx shook her canine head, blood dripping from her nose for only a moment before she raced forward again, calculating her moves more accurately this time, and driving into Anise like a freight train.

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With a growl, he shook his head, feeling the blood pour momentarily from what would have been a concussing blow to a human, and pushed away from the wall he had painfully collided with after Dmitri had pummelled him with a fist. The large lycanthrope certainly had some power; it went without saying to look at him.

Lacertus nearly yelped when a large fist struck downward into his shoulder, but refusing the minimal defeat, he gritted his teeth and shoved himself forward and into the Russian bodily. Dmitri grunted, and nearly collapsed backwards, before picking Lacertus off the floor, and hurling him around and through the air.

_Shit_, he thought, seeing the brick wall that would act as a poor crash mat, and twisted his body awkwardly, feeling his boots connect against the surface with a dull thud, before shoving back towards the ground. He rolled, curling his head underneath him, and in the matter of a few seconds, he was leaping up after the action, and slamming into Dmitri, this time managing to down him.

The two rolled around and around for a few seconds before Dmitri was thrown away. Lacertus' wolf pined to be let free, and as he gazed around, he saw all but Exuro had transformed… so he succumbed. Shrugging off the necessities, he gave in to the change, staying in a predatory crouch as he did so, chuckling in a growl as his fangs protruded and yellow eyes blinked cunningly at the stoic Dmitri. The Russian immediately started to copy, expanding and contorting with the audible cracking of ribs and knees as his human guise was lost to the large, muscular and nigh on hairless wolf he was known for.

The two faced each other off for a few seconds, Lacertus still in his odd crouch, and Dmitri standing perfectly upright. Lacertus began to pace, and Dmitri mirrored him in the bipedal, and they circled intensely for a few moments, sizing each other up once again. They had fought before, these two. When Lei Cheung had been killed in New York, Lacertus had successfully downed Dmitri and knocked him out. To his credit, Dmitri seemed much more capable now.

Pausing atmospherically, oblivious to the carnage reigning around them as wolf tore into wolf and the two stranger vampires seemed lost for what to do, Lacertus and Dmitri gazed unwaveringly at one another.

Then they leapt at each other, their movements almost preordained. They matched perfectly, blow for blow, and Lacertus even reared up on his hind legs to strike a clawed punch across Dmitri's face, cutting flesh temporarily, before he shoved into him, roaring deeply from his chest as the two gave in to the rage they felt.

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Mina whirled like a tornado, her long jacket sweeping around her like a black cloud as she slashed with her daggers, only meaning to impede Exuro, and not seriously harm him. After all, they had the cure. They aimed to get him back to the 'base' and use it on him, but that meant knocking him out… and Exuro had a high tolerance, as they had seen over the years. He was used to powerful blows, and had built up a resilience to them, almost. It was rather impressive, and when they got Tom back, she wondered if he would have it also.

He growled as he batted her hand away, striking at her with a boot, kicking outward and away from himself. Mina arched her back and avoided the kick to the best of her ability, feeling it almost brush her stomach as she dodged. They had landed a good number of blows on each other already, but not enough to tip the scales. It seemed almost as if he was holding back on her. Every now and then, he would almost grimace, as if he was suffering from discomfort, and she wondered if he was wounded or unwell.

_He's a werewolf. They don't suffer from illness_, she told herself, and submitted to the sense behind the thought. In her minor distraction, Exuro landed a sharp kick to her shoulder that sent her sprawling briefly to the side. She dropped one of her daggers in the impact, and heard it clang to the ground noisily as the silver bounced and skittered away. She growled and righted herself, looking to him. For once, he was devoid of his sarcasm, 'wit' and smug expression. He was definitely different tonight, but there was a harsh intent in his gaze as he rushed at her again, his blonde hair moving about his head freely and messily as he did so, driving into her and barrelling her over, even as she cut his arm. He growled with a brief yell, and rolled over her, his duster billowing as he went, almost like a cloth shadow.

Mina pulled herself to her feet… and then froze. She blinked fiercely, as though her eyes stung, and then opened her senses to the air outside the alley.

Blood… warm, filling blood. And lots of it. Her vampiric instincts tore at her, and she wavered, nearly dropping her dagger in favour of the teasing and overwhelming scent, and she growled fiercely, her eyes flushing and remaining a wild red.

Exuro watched her intently, eyes narrowing, even as he surged forward to strike again, but without even registering it, she lashed out and caught him hard across the jaw, nearly downing him as he winced and shook his head, obviously stunned by the sudden powerful blow. He turned his eyes back on her, as if confused or annoyed, even as she gazed to him only briefly, and then could fight the lure no longer. Sheathing her dagger, she called her bats to her, and vanished amongst them, comforted by their hungry screeching as they carried her up and away from the mass combat.

Exuro yelled after her angrily, and without turning her head, she knew he was pursuing. With a quick glance, she saw him leap with grace and agility up onto the rooftops to give chase more effectively. He bounded over the gaps, rolling and bracing himself perfectly, and kept good pace, looking increasingly more furious that his opponent was 'fleeing' the scene.

The blood was just so strong…

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Exuro snarled furiously as he threw himself over a particularly large gap, yelling as he did so, if only to relieve tension in the action more than anything, and as he landed, he was forced to roll, trying not to break pace as he did so, starting to pant a little and wondering why the hell she was running… well, _flying_. Was she afraid? What had her on the retreat?

Whatever it was, he was determined not to let her escape, though if she spiralled up into the clouds, he would be unable to stop her, and he would lose her. Which meant he only really had one choice.

As he approached the next gap, he felt his mind settle on his course of action, and with a sharp growl, he tore his twin Colts from his waist, aiming them up and firing off two shots into the clouds, hearing a pair of squealing impacts as he struck the bats, as he had intended.

Harker seemed to remember he was there, and swarmed down and behind him, as if to drive him away and off the edge of the building. Keeping his pistols firmly gripped in his hands, he came up on the gap, and leapt over it, carefully measuring the distance and his angle as he went, heading over the drop safely, even as the bats coursed up behind him. Giving a shout, he immediately rolled as he landed, and spun simultaneously, coming around on his back in a position that gave him a perfect aim, and without hesitation, he let loose with his Colts.

The bats wailed and spun away from him, and he thought he heard a sharp growl from within the swarm, indicating he had either infuriated Harker, or struck her. Either was fine by him, so long as she _stopped_. He didn't even care if she attacked him… he just wanted to her to stop _running_ and give him the fight he deserved. He had waited for it long enough. He thought his patience was worthy of some reward.

Harker tore her bats away from him, and carried on her way towards whatever was calling to her, whether that be the horizon or wherever she called home. No matter where she went, he was intent on following, and even as he scrambled to his feet with a mumbled curse, he slipped the Colts away. Feeling the cut on his arm, he knew it would heal, if only slower than it normally should. The silver blade had burned, but he had pulled away before it could cut too deep. He knew better than to push his luck.

Three more large gaps impeded him along the way, and the last one nearly cost him something he knew he'd miss, as he lost his concentration for just a moment as another unwelcome memory slammed him like a bullet.

_"It's a gauntlet!"_

_ "The vampire lady has us covered!"_

He grabbed the edge of the roof with his hands as he nearly missed his footing, and hauled himself up, falling over the rim and onto the hard surface with an unceremonious 'oomph' and a fresh curse. Wincing and shaking his head, he gazed skyward. She was _still_ going.

"Goddamn vampire…" he grumbled, and took off again, duster sweeping out behind him as he went, torn at by the slight breeze and the speed of his non-stop movement, as his legs pumped systematically like pistons to keep him moving. If he had known she was going to fly for this long, he would have called on the wolf to give him an advantage, but if he stopped to change now, he would lose his balance and his quarry. Some stubborn part of him was adamant against the idea of losing his duster to the change, and he tried to think why that was. Shrugging the thought off, he leapt clean over another gap, panting rhythmically, and even perspiring now. She was certainly giving him a run for his money.

Feeling somewhat worn, his senses were starting to falter a little with his lethargy, and in his distraction, he didn't hear the muffled gunshot. He did, however, hear a cry from overhead, even as it was followed closely by another and a growl… and the swarm of bats stopped. Gradually, they started to disappear as Mina Harker's hold on their forms failed, and without warning, she was falling from the sky.

Cocking his head and without thinking it over, he started forward, bounding over a join in the rooftops. He gripped it with his hands as he swung his legs agilely over it, and then felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. Wincing with a brief cry, he faltered, and reached behind him, pulling something from his body. Looking at it in utter bemusement, he furrowed his brows, even as another of the darts hit him in the back of the knee… and then another in his stomach as he turned.

Even as he stumbled back, with short somewhat struggled breaths, another of the projectiles hit him solidly in the chest… moments before his knees failed him. His vision swam madly and he winced, trying to get his eyes to focus as he felt his blood burn through his veins. He felt badly overheated, and the perspiration beading his forehead was testimony to that. He felt the weight in his torso working against him, and before he could stop it, he toppled awkwardly backwards, landing firmly against the rooftop, not far from the now-still body of Mina Harker. She lay unconscious on the roof only feet from him, and he gazed to her with poorly focused eyes, before they were too heavy to keep open.

His eyes closed and with one final heave of his chest, he felt darkness swarm him.

****

****


	10. Change of Plans

**Author's Note:** Wow, that last chapter was longer than I thought it was going to be. I had planned to put the first POV from this chapter into that one as well, but it was far too long, and people might not have had the time, or the attention span for that amount XD Hope you enjoy this one.

**Marcus Lazarus:** Thanks very much about the battle scenes, and about the look into Zariel's head.

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** Heh, don't worry; I'll elaborate on Ezekiel and Mina…

**LotRseer3350:** Aren't mysterious third parties fun…?

**BloodMoonLycan:** Squee – thankies for the review, buddy! XD

**Ceru S:** Thanks! Glad you liked it all; that makes me a happy little author :)

**Sholto:** O.O ZOOEE! Great to hear from you! Squeee! XD I actually did that out loud when I saw who it was, hehehehehehe. Thanks so much for the review! Glad you like it :D

And now for the next chapter of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

* * *

Tilting the barrel of the old hunting rifle away from his eyes, he stared intently as he saw the werewolf collapse backwards, body slumping in a way that screamed his losing consciousness. With a grin, Donovan waved a hand to his men, indicating to the downed supernatural pair who lay motionless on the rooftop a handful of buildings away. Shouldering the powerful rifle, he shrugged, balancing the weight easily before he followed to the fire escape. He could hear the roar of the large vehicles on the street below, and made his way quickly and swiftly down the metal steps to the sidewalk, where he hopped up onto the side of the first truck. It moved forward immediately as he did so, and he clung to the wing mirror with ease as it drove.

It took them only a collection of moments before they were pulling up next to the building where Masters had successfully tranquilised the vampire and the werewolf – Harker and Exuro, as they had been called. Donovan started silently issuing orders with swift and precise hand signals, and the soldiers leapt into action, heading up the building using both the internal access and the fire escape up its side, in order to get to the roof. Of course, a chopper would have been more convenient, but it would have attracted far too much attention, and the containers wouldn't have fit.

He had estimated the drugs would take effect for fifteen minutes with each dose he had pumped into them respectively. The vampire would be down for about half an hour, and the werewolf double that. Donovan had ensured he hit the wolf with twice the dose in order to rest assured that he would knock him out cold and definitely. He didn't trust the drugs – no matter how powerful they were supposed to be – to work too well on him for too long.

Sprinting up the steps after shoving the rifle into the hands of one of the drivers, he made it to the roof as the men were retrieving their targets. Their bodies were limp, and the werewolf's head lolled to one side, his hair tumbling across his face messily, as with the vampire's. The men, naturally, had more trouble shouldering the weight of the lycanthrope than the vampire, given his subtle bulk, but with a harsh gaze from Donovan, they were soon heaving him up all the way from the floor, and carrying him off the roof. Those with the vampire weren't far behind, and Donovan gazed around quickly to ensure the other creatures were nowhere to be seen. The last thing they needed was to have been noticed by them.

Confident that they hadn't been spotted, he bounded down the steps after those carrying the werewolf and vampire, and supervised the loading into the containers. The vampire in one; the werewolf in the other. Time was ticking away, and the longer the loading took, the less time they had to get them back to base before they regained awareness. Donovan wanted to be back in the grounds of headquarters before they were too conscious. He had a sneaking suspicion the wolf would need dosing again, even in removal from the container; in fact, it would probably be best to hit him again before even unfastening the door, which was locking as he stood there pensively. Seven bolts slid heavily and creakingly across the portal that gave the werewolf freedom, and shut out the light, save for ten small aerating slits down each side of the metal containers. He was going to have trouble with him… Donovan knew he would.

The vampire seemed like she wouldn't prove to be too much trouble. After all, her behaviour had been exactly as they had predicted so far. The blood they had lured her away with had worked like a charm, and had successfully attracted her attention. They were lucky the other two vampires had ignored the pull of its appealing scent.

As the second door clanged heavily closed, Donovan nodded approvingly to all the men, telling them silently that they had done well, before he climbed into the passenger seat of the first truck, reclaiming his trusty rifle, and signalling to the driver that they get underway.

Larson would be pleased, no doubt.

* * *

In the midst of the combat, Illyria had made her way quickly back to her lover's side, dodging the six raging werewolves as they fought and tore at one another, intending to slash the throats to the ground and spill blood as generously as possible. She couldn't believe her eyes; she had seen Zariel fight before, but… never had she seen a sight so vicious. It was carnage, in its purest form; raw and intent, all clawed and fanged and primal.

Dark eyes scanned the scene as she and Ezekiel crouched up on the level of a fire escape closest to the ground and aide should they need to supply it, and furrowed her light, feminine brow, turning her head to her lover without tearing her gaze from where she had last seen a certain fighting pair.

"Love," she began in a smooth whisper, calling his attention instantly, "where is Mina Harker? And the wolf, Exuro?"

Ezekiel followed her gaze immediately and exactly, coming to the same realisation she had. They were gone. There was only a silver dagger on the ground to attest to the fact that they had ever been there at all… the vampire and werewolf themselves were nowhere in sight.

Ezekiel looked unsettled, and at once, he stood on the railing of the fire escape, and held his fingers to his lips, letting loose with a sharp and loud whistle that succeeded in ironically attracting the attention of all the scrapping lycanthropes.

For their part, Gladius and Zariel halted with fangs bared just inches from one another's throats; Dmitri had Lacertus pinned powerfully against a wall; and Falx was climbing back to her feet with a bloody nose from a blow Anise had dealt.

"I don't know if any of you have _noticed_ in your fits of rage, but we're missing our respective leaders," he called over the group of combatants, not too unlike an announcer at a fight. "I'd say that's a problem for _all_ of us, Quattuor or _not_. Maybe we should stop tearing each other's throats out and make sure they're all right? Hmm?"

Illyria smiled at the respect her lover's voice commanded so effortlessly, and rewarded him with a kiss filled with discreet passion and warmth as they crouched gracefully on their shared perch. Together, they watched as the wolves reluctantly backed down from one another, skulking off into individual shadowed corners and alcoves to redress and make themselves presentable. The two vampires waited silently until this was achieved, and all six werewolves reappeared in human forms, clothed and much neater. Lacertus was pulling on his boots with a glare aimed at Dmitri, with blood down one side of his face. Falx wiped her hand across her upper lip, removing it of blood also, and Zariel was rubbing the back of his head with a scowl aimed at Gladius.

"That's more like it," Ezekiel murmured. With a glance to each in turn, he said, "Now… let's see if we can find our friends, shall we? Anise, you might want to claim that dagger Mina dropped. We wouldn't want someone finding it, would we?" With that, he and Illyria burst into twin flocks of bats which mingled flirtatiously for a moment before swarming up to the rooftops. With a melody of growls, the werewolves bounded up the walls after them, and stayed behind them, running agilely over the buildings to try and find any trace of their wayward leaders.

* * *

With a light groan and – to coin an English phrase – a cracking headache, Mina rolled over onto her back, wincing at the movement from beneath her. She could hear and feel the motion of a vehicle, and as she looked around blurrily with swimming vision, she recognised… very little. In fact, she could see only slithers of light, and when her stomach promised not to empty on her, she claimed her footing, and tried to see outside the holes, finding they were big enough for her to poke some of her hand through, but not without risking the sharp edges. She managed to cut her palm on the surface, and hissed slightly, pulling back and actually sucking on the wound to stop the flow. The cut healed quickly, and she resorted to simply gazing out and trying to recognise anything.

She had seen only brief glimpses of trees, if that. She wasn't even sure; her vision was far from reliable at the moment. Resigning herself to this fact, she sat against the wall of whatever she was trapped in, and rubbed her hand, trying to figure out what had happened.

Was this the Quattuor's doing? Or had Exuro been captured as well? Focusing and concentrating as much as possible, she closed her eyes, and reached out with her senses… finally centring on a second engine. There was another vehicle; another truck.

Which could quite possibly indicate that Exuro _had_ been captured along with her. Which only meant one thing, really.

There was a _fourth_ party in all this…

… And if what Exuro had claimed in the alley was true, then they had been the ones to murder Woods.

* * *

Falx had overtaken the two flying vampires when she had locked onto Exuro's definite scent, and by the time she landed on the roof where it lost consistency, her heart was racing faster than a speeding bullet. She gazed left and right and all around, before she started to shake her head… and felt something brush her boot. Gazing down with crystal eyes, she crouched and recovered the dart. She stared at it in almost in accusation, and felt Lacertus come up beside her.

"Falx?"

She didn't respond.

"Falx, what is it?" The younger werewolf sounded concerned, and he reached up and took the dart from her fingers, before smelling the needle's tip and grimacing. "Ugh…"

"What is it?" came the voice of the Frenchwoman, Anise as she cautiously paced closer. Falx didn't move, only stared straight ahead, too stunned to do anything else at that moment. It couldn't be… he couldn't have…

It wasn't _possible_.

"Tranq' dart," Lacertus replied shortly, and gave Anise the dart without a hesitation, gazing to the others. "His scent is fading. He didn't _walk_ away from here."

Falx whirled then, her eyes wavering into black suddenly as she snapped, "_Don't_ you say that!"

Lacertus seemed taken aback, and he gazed to his alpha female, saying, "Falx… I want to hope as much as you do that he's okay, but–"

"No… be quiet."

"_Falx_… think about it. Look around you." Though his voice was gentle in actuality, to Falx it sounded harsh and almost mocking, and that did nothing to improve her mood. With a savage snarl, she lunged at Lacertus, knocking him down to the ground as she pinned him, baring elongating fangs.

"No!" someone yelled, and arms wrapped around her and lifted her up roughly, pulling her off the startled Lacertus, who sat up and stared with wide eyes at the raging Falx, who soon realised what she was doing… and felt overwhelming shame at attacking one of her pack. She collapsed in the arms at once, and they lowered her to the ground.

A hand was stroking her tousled hair from her face, and she thought it was probably Gladius, for some odd reason, perhaps trying to rectify his earlier mistakes in this time of dismay by comforting her, but when she concentrated on the person before her, she shoved them away at once with a mumbled, "Leave me alone; I don't need _your_ sympathy."

Anise Delacroix heeded the command, and turned the palms of her hands outward to show she meant no harm, but stepped away to an agreeable distance all the same. Falx simply knelt there for a long time, with everyone looking at her, save for the two vampires, who were trying to find any evidence of a trail for them to follow. Lacertus had furrowed his brow in concern, and if nothing else, that spurred her into standing again, feigning indifference and an outer appearance of strength and power. She was an alpha… she was a leader, and she had to _act_ like it. With Exuro missing, she was in charge of the lessened Quattuor.

And she _would_ get him back… and tear out the hearts of those responsible for this.

* * *

With a gasp, he awoke, and sat up all too quickly for his body's liking, and he nearly retched, groaning loudly and holding a hand to his spinning head as he closed his eyes tightly. He lowered nearer to the bottom of the… wherever he was, for a few moments more as he collected himself, and then opened his eyes, looking around with narrowed and pained eyes, the headache almost tearing his skull apart. He hauled himself over to the wall of wherever he was, and touched a hand to its solid surface. He tapped it experimentally, and furrowed his brow. It was a solid metal, cold to the touch, and he ran his hand over it, searching for any weaknesses as he slowly gathered himself to his feet. They were moving slowly; a truck, he guessed.

If he hadn't seen her fall from the sky like a dead weight, he would have blamed Mina Harker for this. But as it was, she had been downed _first_, so unless it was all a cheap trick, then they had _both_ been captured by whoever was at the wheel.

After pacing around the entire interior of the large container, he came to the unwilling conclusion that it was solid, and had been constructed for one purpose, and one purpose alone.

To hold a creature like a werewolf.

_We'll see about that_, he thought stubbornly, and tried to call on his wolf… only to find it lacked the strength to respond to his command. It _tried_… and failed somewhat spectacularly. "Damn," he muttered, and was assaulted by a vivid and blinding mental image.

_Chasing up stairs… firing his rifle… running… a man jumping through a window._

_"Damn…"_

He growled and slammed his fist into the side of the container with a clang before dropping somewhat weakly to his knees, pulling in deep breaths as his head pounded mercilessly, and he almost emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor in front of him. Holding it back, he rolled back onto the ground, just lying there for a while to collect his strength and thoughts.

Whoever was behind this would seriously regret opening that door…

* * *

The three remaining members of the Quattuor had been off to one side of the roof for some time now, Anise realised as she paced with Dmitri. She looked up at the large and compassionate Russian, who in turn, gazed down at her with a sigh. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and he touched a hand to her shoulder.

"This is just an unexpected turn of events," he said to her quietly in attempted reassurance. "Albeit an awkward one… but something that can be rectified none the less."

Anise closed her eyes in silent and inner defeat, and felt Dmitri pull her to him, and embrace her comfortingly with inevitable sadness in his eyes.

"We will get them both back," he murmured to her confidently, and it was the strength in his voice that returned her own resolution to her. She pulled in a deep breath, and pulled away, smiling up at her old friend with thanks in her gaze. He returned it, and tucked her hair behind her ear, before gazing behind her with an almost curious and surprised light in his eyes. He glanced down at Anise, and then back to where he had first averted his eyes.

Anise cautiously turned, and to her surprise, found herself coming face to face with the fiery Falx. Though the fellow female werewolf looked far from happy about the proximity, Anise was to be startled further when one of Falx's hands extended outward… an offer.

A truce.

Gazing to all the others on the rooftop, Anise didn't know what to do. Dmitri stood behind her solidly. Zariel, Ezekiel and Illyria watched from near the edge of the building, and Gladius and Lacertus weren't far behind their own leader.

Swallowing somewhat dryly, Anise reached out with her own hand… and clasped Falx's firmly, holding it there as the taller lycanthrope nodded once with a stern expression. Her eyes said it all; they were to work together to get their people back. Anise returned the gesture, and the two simultaneously pulled their hands away.

"Now what?" Lacertus asked softly, almost as if he were not comfortable voicing his queries around anyone outside his 'pack. He looked to everyone though, not just Gladius and Falx, and the female of the two gazed to Anise inquiringly, as if for her opinion… which threw Anise for a loss once again.

_Pull it together_, a stern voice commanded in her brain, and she responded to Falx with a seemingly confident, "We have somewhere not far from here. We can gather there and… try to figure _something_ out."

Falx looked as though she wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained, nodding after a moment with a mumbled, "All right. Come on; we have a car. The vampires will have to fly, though. There's not enough space."

Ezekiel and Illyria didn't seem fazed by this, and immediately swarmed off into the night in their flocks of bats, heading back to the apparent new base of operations. Zariel gazed around, and then said, "I'll follow them," with only a brief indication to the vampires before he bounded off in pursuit. Either he was ridiculously uncomfortable near the Quattuor, or he had come to the same conclusion as Anise.

Even with only five, it would be a tight ride in their car.


	11. Future Proof

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay. Mental collapse on my behalf. This is where – hopefully – things start to become clear for everyone. All those questions I've said will be answered in later chapters… they'll start to crop up here and there. Hopefully…

**Marcus Lazarus:** Telepaths are a viable option… but you'll have to wait and see. I'm not giving that away just yet XD You know me.

**Mrs. Mina Harker:** Don't worry… the Ezekiel and Mina back-story will come into it; I'm not leaving _that_ out. And maybe I should have everyone taking part in a group hug… but that would probably result in shreds of characters all over the floor, so… O.o

**Ceru S:** Thanks very much. Very kind words, and I appreciate every single one. If you think about it, Falx wants Exuro back, so her initiating a truce is a last resort when she realises they need the team to find her lover. Thanks again!

**Silversnow:** Thank you! You are too kind. Glad you're enjoying it.

**Shakai:** Heheh, I have made it rather complicated; as in, you can't designate who's a 'baddie' all that well. Mwahahahah… go me and my devious-ness. OOH! Jaffa Cakes! That'll work XD

And now for the next chapter of **Eternal ****Midnight****…**

**

* * *

**

Larson almost leapt out of his office when he heard the roar of the engines as the trucks pulled back into the building that had become his base of operations. He gripped the railing of the balcony, and nearly grinned ear to ear when he saw Donovan hop down from the passenger side of the first vehicle before it had even stopped rolling inside.

Masters looked up at his superior with a subtle smirk of triumph, and patted the container with the flat of his hand as it drove past, walking calmly and casually away from the trucks as the needed apparatus was brought close in order to lift and winch the crates from their perches.

Robert Larson made his way briskly but not impatiently down the steps, and came up beside Masters, asking with a simple gaze as to how the operation was handled.

"Easy as pie, sir," Masters quipped, shouldering the rifle as the two containers were winched down from the trucks and set side by side near to the far wall of the vast warehouse floor. One was shaking just slightly, and from inside came a bellowing only identifiable as the werewolf. The other one was still, but there was an unmistakeable growling from within that suggested the presence of the vampire. The drugs and sharp edges at the sides of the slits ensured her bats – if she had been able to call on them – would not manage an escape… and there was no way the wolf was going to _batter_ his way free, especially after being tranquilised little over an hour ago.

Chuckling lightly, Larson turned his head to his second in command, saying, "I have a few things to finish up. Let me know when they're out of the containers and subdued."

Masters nodded. "Sir."

Larson jogged back up the steps, and with one final glance at the strong containers, slipped back inside his office with a triumphant grin on his face.

**

* * *

**

Donovan shrugged the rifle off his shoulder, and held it in both hands, before reaching into his vest and pulling out more darts; though these were somewhat different to the ones he had initially used on the wolf and vampire, before loading two into the chamber and slotting it closed. Holding the others – capped as they were, and therefore safe – between his teeth, he indicated for the men nearby to step back, as he strode up beside the wolf's container. The vampire seemed to quieten, as if she could smell Donovan and his weapon.

_Good girl_, he thought mockingly to himself, and pulled in a breath, seeing the flash of narrowed silver eyes from within the container. Raising the rifle, he brought it close to the hole… when a hand shot out and grabbed the barrel, cutting the skin on the way through, but seemingly not even fazing the creature as blood ran from the wounds.

Some of the men near Donovan jumped back in surprise, but all Masters did was pull the trigger, and hear a yell, before he subsequently let off the second shot.

It did little to subdue him, and he only slammed against the container anew with a roar as Donovan reloaded with a shake of his head. He fired the two shots into the wolf, hearing the impact of each one, and even the slight clatter as the spent darts were dropped to the floor as Exuro pulled them free.

Furrowing his brow in surprise more than anything – and even a little impressed – Donovan loaded two _more_, and – reluctantly at first – fired them into the slowly calming werewolf. Before long, there was a groan from inside, and Donovan heard the stumble that came with the drugs in the darts. He could handle them; they needn't worry about the danger of overdosing.

"All right," he mumbled to his men, who had the equipment ready at hand, and made their way to the container doors to open them. There were guards with guns levelled at the ready should anything occur, and a few men with tasers should things get even more out of hand. In actuality, Donovan would rather use the tasers in question if anything happened… they needed the two of them alive. He signalled to the men to open the containers, and after only a brief hesitation, the bolts were drawn back with slight struggles and heaving. They creaked and groaned as the men tugged on them, and before long, the doors were being opened.

To his surprise, Harker, the vampire, was cool and collected, and upon seeing the restraints in her guards' hands, said calmly, "Those will not be necessary." Though she glared and was obviously far from happy about the situation, it was clear she wasn't going to make a scene. Donovan nodded to the inquiring gazes of the guards, who simply stood around her warily as they brought her away from her container. She kept quiet and subdued, watching the twin container as the men stepped cautiously inside.

One of the men was knocked back somewhat haphazardly, and a brief somewhat shadowed struggle ensued in the crate before Donovan cocked the gun again… a sound that seemed to signal successfully to the rebellious Exuro that fighting would earn him another dose. Donovan refrained from smirking, and heard the men applying the restraints. It wasn't long before they were bringing the werewolf out, with cuffs around his wrists and a somewhat crude but effective collar about his neck. Two chains from both the collar and the cuffs ensured the restraint, and Exuro looked far from pleased about the situation… though the grogginess was evident in the slight clouding of his eyes.

"Go get Larson," Donovan ordered one of the men without a real priority, and with a nod, the soldier hurried off to do as he was told. Donovan never took his eyes off the werewolf, and his suspicions were confirmed when Exuro tried to fight again, growling fiercely and trying to lash out at those restraining him.

Rolling his eyes with a rather dramatic sigh, Donovan raised the rifle again, and hit Exuro with yet _another_ dart, making him give a brief cry. He saw the wince, and nodded to one of the soldiers to remove the used dart. When it was jerked free, Exuro's legs wavered a little, and without warning, he collapsed to the ground, slamming down hard on his knees with a grimace and a groan, bowing his head forward a little. Harker watched all this with a measured degree of anger and concern, but wisely held her tongue. Donovan kept the rifle held readily in his hands; thankful he had loaded another two shots as he'd strode away from the crate.

Larson came up beside him then, and Exuro struggled weakly against his chains and collar, growling at the men who were holding the chains tightly. "You call _this_ subdued?" he queried sceptically.

Donovan shrugged nonchalantly, shaking his head a little. "This is as subdued as he's gonna get, sir… trust me."

"What do you mean by that? Didn't you use the darts?"

Donovan laughed dryly and with very little humour. "Yes, sir, I certainly did. It's taken _seven_ of 'em to get _this_ far." Looking to his superior, he added, "I pumped enough into him to down a bull elephant… and then some." Shaking his head again with a sigh, he continued, "It'll have to do, sir. Vampire seems to know her place though."

Larson glanced over at Harker, and nodded, even though the woman was glaring with a red hue to her eyes. "Good." Warily at first, Larson paced closer and gazed down on the drugged werewolf, almost as if he were eyeing a specimen… which was, in fact, what Exuro and Harker were. Specimens.

"Not bad," he murmured. "Did you see his wolf?" Larson gazed over his shoulder at Donovan, who shook his head.

"He held back, I'm afraid, sir. Though if we let the drugs wear off, I'm sure he'll give us a show." With a slight chuckle, Donovan paced up beside his superior, shouldering the rifle again, before rethinking it, and passing it off to one of the men and swapping it for the guard's taser, for good measure. "Won't you, dog?"

Exuro glared up at Donovan, eyes flashing silver only briefly before a low and constant growl became evident. Rolling his eyes, Donovan backhanded the werewolf before ramming the taser down on his back, making him yell out in pain and practically collapse, much to Larson's amusement. Grabbing a handful of shaggy blonde hair, Donovan yanked Exuro's head back, threatening, "Don't make me _muzzle_ you, mutt."

With a laugh, he threw the head forward again, noticing how it bowed right over, hanging somewhat heavily as the werewolf recovered from the charge that had been shot viciously through his body.

"Get them to the lab," Larson ordered, and with mutterings of acknowledgement, the guards started moving the vampire and the werewolf out of the large room, and away to the adjacent one, where the scientists had set up their primary and most important workspace.

Larson and Donovan watched them go, with the latter eyeing the taser almost fondly with a thoughtful expression. Gazing to each other, they headed off steadily to oversee the lab segment of the operation.

**

* * *

**

Anise practically threw herself out of the car, almost scrambling over Dmitri to get away from Gladius. She despised him in a way she had never thought possible, even for one who had seen the man kill a dear friend… Lei had died because of him and Falx, and she hated them both. Of course, she hated them all, but for some reason, Gladius made her blood run cold, and Falx made her want to scream. To her, they were the worst.

Dmitri looked to her questioningly as she dusted off her clothes, and she nodded, seeing Ezekiel leaning against the door, eyes narrowed as he waited. "Illyria and Zariel are inside."

Anise nodded, remembering Mina had given them the key and the code to get into the building. Paranoia and experience had taught them to up their security, and the secondary digital lock had been added not too long ago. When asked nosily by the installer what they were trying to protect or hide – of course, jokingly – they had merely said they were carrying out research, and the equipment was expensive. She walked over to the male vampire, and discreetly punched in the code, subconsciously covering the panel from the Quattuor members with her free hand as her fingers pushed the buttons. The light clicked to green, and she turned the key in the door before opening it. She ushered them inside, and followed, Dmitri and Ezekiel at her sides. She felt like she was being shadowed, but suddenly she welcomed that.

Up ahead, she could hear soft music… they must have left it running from when they had left in a hurry. And apparently on loop; they had been gone a while; longer than a CD's span. Shrugging it off as an unimportant fact, they entered the main 'office' of their building, finding Illyria and Zariel waiting for them. The werewolf had changed, it seemed. His clothes had been grubby from the scuffle in the alleys, and he sat on the table's edge now, cleaner and stoic as always. Anise noticed they'd tidied away the files concerning the Quattuor, thankfully. The last thing they needed was for a fight to break out regarding their spying… not that it would have mattered; they probably already knew to some extent.

Falx, Gladius and Lacertus were looking around with a lacking interest, the latter taking to roaming slowly, eyeing equipment and the like. Dmitri watched him carefully, never taking his dark eyes from the young member of the assassin group. Gladius and Falx stood roughly five feet from each other… as if allergic, Anise noted with a hint of amusement. She strode further into the room, removing her jacket, and skipping the obnoxious track on the CD. After a moment, she turned it off altogether; casting the room into heavy silence, save for the soft tapping of Lacertus' heels as he moved. He walked past Anise once, eyeing her as if in study, and then continued. She watched him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"So now what?" Falx asked impatiently, folding her arms across her chest with a glint of something distasteful in her bright eyes. Anise looked to her, noting the way Dmitri seemed to guard the door, and quirked a brow.

"Now we think."

"Think?" Falx disputed, and Anise almost groaned. It seemed the territoriality between the two of them was going to grow… and quickly. It would no doubt escalate; she was thankful the others were here to prevent anything, or at least step in and help if it came to that. "What is there to think about?"

"We have to try and think who would abduct Tom and Mina." She didn't even register her mental slip until a growl tore from Falx.

"Tom Sawyer is _dead_," she corrected sharply, her eyes black for just a moment. "_Exuro_ is the one who was taken. Make no mistake about that…"

Anise ignored the challenge in the alpha female's glare, and looked to Ezekiel as he paced from behind Falx, almost brushing against her as he offered her an icy glance. She did not back down, and not too far to her left, Gladius practically smirked.

"Let's not go back to tearing each other's throats out, hmm?" he offered, raising both brows as he looked to everyone present. "We're here to help each other, and believe it or not… fighting is counterproductive…" The sarcasm in his voice was far from subtle, and behind him, Illyria smiled almost mischievously. It was the most expression Anise had ever seen in the woman.

"So, is sarcasm your only talent, or do you have some idea as to what we do now?" Falx said after a few moments, looking pointedly at the male. "Not that I should expect much from a vampire…"

"Now, no need to be rude," Ezekiel quipped, cocking his head in a manner that made his feral hair more noticeable. He chuckled quietly, rolling his shoulders. Anise noticed the way Falx tensed, as if she thought he was about to pounce, and almost rolled her eyes; they were getting paranoid too it seemed.

Illyria was glaring openly at Falx now, who sighed loudly and took it upon herself to sit none too lightly in an available chair off to the side of the room. Gladius took to leaning against the wall not too far from the imposing form of Dmitri. Lacertus was still sating his curiosity. Zariel hadn't moved, said, or done anything since they'd arrived, and Anise didn't know whether to be worried or not. Illyria motioned Ezekiel over with a mere gaze, and he relented, standing beside her almost possessively.

_Well this is going well_…

**_To Be Continued…_**


End file.
